


Afraid of the Light

by Madalayna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Attacks, Coming Back Together, Dating, Eavesdropping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fitz and Simmons are friends first, Fitz comes back to work on a project, Fitz is not perfect, Fitz leaves SHIELD, Fitz positive, Fitz will do anything for love, Future Fic, Healed Jemma, I mean sex, Jemma positive, Jemma stays, Jemma still doesn't get emotions but she's better, Jemma's birthday, Kinda Romantic, Lovesick Fitz, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Post-4722 Hours, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Separation and Return, Smut, Some Plot, Then soulmates, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Sparring, What else is new?, Will was imaginary, Wow, and working out their "other stuff", but just a bit, but smutty as hell, city, is now part of this au, lying, misinterpretation of said eavesdropping, missing each other, mostly in the past however, the necklace, the usual, the video from her phone!, working out their issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalayna/pseuds/Madalayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra has a new weapon that targets Inhumans and when Jemma and her team can't solve the mystery of how it works quickly enough, Coulson calls in "the consultant". Fitz left two years ago, at Jemma's request, after she realized that Will was all in her mind and she began to manifest the symptoms of PTSD. When he returns to help S.H.I.E.L.D. solve their dilemma, things get interesting when he and Jemma meet after so long apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Failings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memorizingthedigitsofpi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/gifts).



> This fic is a birthday gift for [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi). She's super-awesome and I hope she likes this. 
> 
> I was a bit inspired by Coldplay's _What If?_ as I wrote this and it has some pretty major feels from that song. 
> 
> Also, please note, I don't actually think Will Daniels was imaginary but this story isn't really about him. Bringing him into it was only going to muck up the story I really wanted to tell, so please don't send me comments that he has to be real or anything. I'm right there with you.
> 
> One more thing, I've always vaguely wishful-headcanoned that Fitz made Jemma's necklace. That'll probably get Jossed this season if not in the coming weeks but that's just my thing for this story. Fitz made it, there.

Everything began to shake and shudder, then the entire base seemed to pitch like it was balanced on a pin. Jemma instantly latched onto her lab bench for support as the warning klaxon went off. This made her abandon the comfort of holding on so she could cover her ears. She still occasionally had moments of panic when there were loud noises or when she was startled but she quickly went into her mantra and used her breathing technique to help with the urge to hyperventilate.

Moments later, the base ceased its worrisome instability and she immediately called Bobbi. Her friend was temporarily in charge while both May and Coulson were out in the field.

“What the bloody hell was _that_?” she asked Bobbi, incongruously tiny on the screen before her.

“Coulson’s back,” Bobbi replied, her voice tinny coming through the built-in speakers. “I guess they came across some new Hydra weapon. It targets Inhumans. They all got hit with it but Daisy’s the only one affected. It’s making her powers unstable. They’re on their way down now.”

“Have they sedated her?” Jemma asked anxiously. She didn’t want anyone to think she was frightened of Daisy, but she also didn’t want the base coming down around their ears either.

“I don’t think so,” Bobbi answered cautiously. “But they’ll have her down there soon.”

The base was trembling violently again by the time they finally wheeled Daisy in on a gurney, Coulson at her side. He looked first to Jemma and then to the base’s MD, Dr. Benton. Daisy was on her side, doubled up in pain, groaning and sweating profusely.

“She didn’t want us to sedate her. She thinks she can hold off her power,” Coulson said, shaking his head, holding up a ready syringe of sedative. “I’m not sure how long she can do it without hurting herself and we almost couldn’t land. What should we do?”

“Remember what happened the last time?” Jemma interrupted before Benton could even speak. “She had microfractures all through her arms!”

Jemma went down next to the stretcher and tried to catch Daisy’s eyes even though she was obviously in extreme pain. “Please, let us sedate you until we can figure this out. Just as a stopgap measure. _Please._ ”

Daisy screamed, small bruises appearing on her arms, as the base’s vibration-level grew and dust began to sift down from the ceiling.

Benton gave Jemma a significant look before glancing to Coulson as he said, “Sir, I agree. We should sedate her until Dr. Simmons and I can take a look at the what’s going on in her system.”

Coulson nodded, his eyes full of concern as he glanced back at Daisy. Jemma felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes as Daisy made a weak noise of protest. However, before she could object further, Benton took the syringe from Coulson and injected her with the sedative. It only took a moment for her eyes to close and her features to smooth in relaxation. The low rolling tremors ceased almost as quickly.

Jemma smoothed Daisy’s hand where it lay, slack now, over her stomach and returned her gaze to Coulson. “What did this?” Her tone was full of suppressed anger even though she tried to keep it professional.

“This,” Coulson said, pulling a forensically bagged weapon from a duffel on his shoulder. He held it out to Jemma and she took it carefully. She examined the odd-looking gun for a moment but was immediately distracted, watching as Daisy was wheeled toward the med bay by Dr. Benton and a nurse.

“Think you can figure it out?” Coulson asked. Jemma's head turned back rapidly at the prompt and she tried to push aside her worry for her friend.

“I’ll take a look,” she answered, glancing down at the weapon in the sealed bag. The grip and trigger seemed usual enough but the barrel widened out like a funnel, as if to affect a larger target area.

“I need this figured out asap. I’ve got agents out there in the field that I can’t have affected by this. Daisy is seasoned, she’s had her powers a lot longer than most of our new Inhuman agents. She could hold off, keep it in check, but what if one of her newer recruits got hit with this? It could be devastating. People could be hurt—or killed. Please, do what you can.” Coulson looked so upset, so worried, Jemma couldn’t help but try to reassure him.

“I’m sure we can figure it out, sir. I’ll get Agent Calvin to help me,” she said, putting a light, reassuring hand on Coulson’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Coulson sighed, nodded to Jemma, and then turned abruptly and left the lab. She looked after him a moment, worrying at how upset he seemed, then turned and strode purposefully into the lab to begin her work.

Jemma took Agent Calvin off her current engineering project and started her on figuring out the new weapon. Then she compiled all the biological data Benton was getting from Daisy and reached a rather startling conclusion. The weapon was clearly designed to target Inhumans by acting on the part of the brain that controlled their powers, essentially causing it to overload with stimulation. Jemma was amazed that Daisy was able to hold off on destroying Zephyr One while the team was still inside it. Sedation would work on Daisy for a time but that was not the case with all of their new Inhuman agents—some of their powers were far more unconsciously triggered. It was an imperfect and very temporary fix. What they needed was a way to neutralize the weapon’s effects on the brain and also a way to shield their agents from being affected in the first place. Jemma set about the first task. She worked all day until she had a device that would soothe the overactive neurons in Daisy’s brain.

She placed the flexible crown of receptors on her head, pushing a lock of hair from Daisy’s forehead. Then Jemma watched the readout on her tablet as the fiery red activity in her brain slowly muted to orange, then yellow and finally green. She sighed in relief. She looked down at the braces on Daisy’s arms. They weren’t as badly damaged as the last time but she would be sore for a week or two nonetheless. She let Dr. Benton know that he could let Daisy wake naturally now that she would no longer be a threat to the base. Jemma then went to speak to Agent Calvin.

“I just don’t get it,” Calvin said, shaking her head fiercely. “I’ve tried it on some test mice but it only seems to work on the ones with the spliced Inhuman DNA, Agent Simmons. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. It’s a high-frequency beam of some sort but I just don’t understand why that wouldn’t affect anyone or why it would only affect that particular part of their brains.”

“That part of the brain is rather dormant in humans. There are some things we still don’t understand about how Inhuman DNA affects them. Perhaps there are some changes in the structure of the brain that are still unclear?” Jemma offered.

“That’s not my area,” Calvin said with a slight, rueful smile. Without the benefit of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, Jemma knew Calvin’s education was limited to engineering but this only reminded her of what she’d rather not think about. “I just figure out how tech works, Agent Simmons, and I’m telling you that I don’t know how this works right now.”

“We need to figure it out,” Jemma said a bit sternly. “Our people are in danger and, by extension, so is the public. You need to get this done, agent.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll keep working on it,” Calvin said, looking uneasy.

“Thank you,” Jemma said, but once her back was turned, she sighed, knowing her report to Coulson wouldn’t be as hopeful as she’d like.

She knocked on the door before hearing him call out, “Come in.”

“Sir,” she acknowledged, standing before his desk.

“Agent Simmons. So, what’s the deal?” He looked expectant, sitting forward slightly in his chair.

“I’ve come up with a treatment to nullify the effects of the weapon,” she said immediately, hoping a little good news might help him swallow the bad. He smiled tightly and gave a slight nod for her to continue. “However, Agent Calvin is having some trouble figuring out the the process by which the weapon operates. It seems it only works on Inhuman brains but it’s rather difficult for me to determine why that would be when I don’t fully understand how they’re different from ours. So—it may take some time, sir. For Agent Calvin to figure out the nature of the weapon and for me to develop a defense against it.” She looked to the floor, feeling like a failure. She finally dragged her eyes up to his when he gave no verbal response to her report.

He was sitting back in his chair, his fingers laced together over his lap. He appeared to be deep in thought. Jemma looked at the realistic skin of his left hand and was impressed. Even she had to admit that his new, extremely lifelike hand was quite spectacular. She wondered who had made it for him.

“Alright,” he said, “Keep working and give me regular progress reports.”

Leaving Calvin to her work, Jemma headed for her bunk. It was after seven anyway and it'd been a long day. Needing to wash off all traces of a day in the lab, she showered immediately. As she toweled her hair dry, she paused to look at the nearly-invisible scar on her temple. She rarely noticed it anymore but, for some reason, she ran a finger over the faint line. Shuddering at the memory of her time on the alien planet, she dropped her hand away and finished with her hair.

Too exhausted to think of what to eat yet, she slipped into her favorite comfortable pajamas and curled up on her bed with her laptop and the new biomedical research paper she was working on. She was just getting focused when someone knocked on her door.

Closing her laptop with slightly more force than necessary, she got up and opened the door cautiously. She was surprised to see Daisy standing there, smiling slightly and holding her arms behind her back.

“Hey!” Daisy said cheerfully. “I just came by to say thanks for fixing me up today and—” She brought her hands forward to reveal a cupcake in each. “Happy birthday!”

Jemma instantly felt the annoying tickle of tears at the back of her eyes but she swallowed hard and stepped back, letting Daisy into her room. Her friend awkwardly took a candle and lighter from her pocket with her stiffly braced arms unable to bend comfortably. Sitting on the bed, she set the candle on top of Jemma’s cupcake and lit it.

“I’d forgotten,” Jemma said faintly, taking the cupcake from Daisy as she sat down with one leg curled beneath her. She smiled fondly at her friend over the gentle golden glow and then blew out the candle. “Thank you.”

“Coulson and May are busy strategizing and,” she shrugged, “I didn’t know if you really wanted a big to-do. Seems like you haven’t really wanted a big thing for—" Daisy stopped speaking, realizing her mistake, her mouth hung open for just a moment but then she continued, “Well, for a couple of years. I guess I know why _that_ is. That was dumb.” She shook her head at herself.

“Yes, Fitz was always the one who loved birthdays,” Jemma agreed, trying not to sound as glum as she felt at the reminder.

“He made it fun though,” Daisy said, peeling the lining from her cupcake and taking a bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, “Don't you, you know, miss him?”

Jemma felt her throat tighten and she couldn’t quite meet Daisy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately, bringing up a stiff arm to put a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.”

Jemma took a bite of her cupcake to hide her upset when, with a mischievous note in her voice, Daisy said, “Bobbi mentioned that Dr. Benton asked you out yet  _again_. Jeez, he's persistent.”

Jemma coughed slightly on the sugary paste in her mouth and, swallowing it down forcibly, said, “My, doesn’t news just travel faster and faster these days?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s much else to do when there’s downtime. Gossip is like oxygen for my stimulation-deprived mind,” Daisy said.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t deprived of stimulation today,” Jemma said, both of them chuckling lightly.

After their vague laughter had turned to silence, they both took another bite of their cupcakes.

Daisy chewed enthusiastically, and then said, “I’m assuming you said no again. But, _please_ , correct me if I’m wrong.”

“I said no again,” Jemma answered quietly, attempting to convey that she really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Why? He’s tall, dark and handsome _and_ he’s a freaking doctor! What more could you ask for?” Daisy complained.

“It’s not him,” Jemma admitted. “I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. I don’t know if I ever even _want_ to be.” She brought a hand up to partially cover her face, trying to fight back her tears.

“Jesus, Jemma, I’m sorry,” Daisy said, her damaged arms coming awkwardly but comfortingly around her shoulders. “Me and my big mouth tonight.”

“No. It’s alright,” Jemma said, putting the remains of her cupcake aside so she could bring her arms around her friend. “If I can’t speak to you, who can I?”

She felt Daisy take in a deep, sighing breath. “Right. Who else?”

* * *

The next morning, Jemma came into the lab to find Agent Calvin sprawled over her desk, snoring lightly.

Jemma shook her gently and she started awake, sitting up sharply.

“Oh! Agent Simmons,” she said and brought a hand up to her, undoubtedly, stiff neck. “I worked all night.” She hesitated, then continued anxiously, “I couldn’t figure it. All I can tell is that it’s sending out an electromagnetic wave. I know which frequency but there’s something else, something I’m missing. It doesn’t make sense why it wouldn’t affect any other neurons in their brains except those centered where their power emanates from or even why it would only affect Inhumans.” She frowned unhappily. “I’m out of ideas, Agent Simmons.”

“Thank you, Agent Calvin. Please, go get some rest now,” Jemma told her, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

Jemma then went to her own station and tried to solve the mystery of how the weapon worked only on Inhumans. By lunchtime, she had no more idea how to solve the mystery than before, much less the solution.

“Jemma?” Coulson said quietly behind her. On instinct, she tensed, turning sharply and standing. He looked incredibly apologetic at her reaction but she smiled sheepishly. She was still rather shamed by her overactive startle response. Tipping his head in apology despite her reassurance, Coulson continued, “I’ve been waiting for that progress report. Do you have anything for me?”

She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s going to take more time to figure out.”

He gave an over-large sigh. “Unfortunately, Simmons, I don’t _have_ a lot more time. I’ve got agents out there exposed with the potential to hurt or kill the general public and even themselves if these weapons are used. I have to keep people safe. Not to mention, Inhuman PR is bad enough these days. We don’t need anything that the press can spin into some sort of an attack. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to call it and get the consultant out here to take over,” Coulson warned. “He’s better than Calvin.” He chuckled slightly. “Well, he’s better than everyone and he _knows_ it. So, okay, that’s it then.” He turned to go, already taking his mobile out of his pocket.

Jemma’s mouth had gone a bit dry as conflicting emotions swirled through her belly roiling tumultuously. She tried to gather some saliva to wet her suddenly too-thick tongue, before she said, “But, sir, I’m certain Agent Calvin—with a bit more time—she can—“

As she spoke, Coulson looked up from his phone and then turned back. He held up a hand, stopping her attempts at an argument. “He said if we needed him, he’d be here for us and I need this threat taken care of, Agent Simmons. Thanks for your good work up till now. You did all you could. I know that.”

He began to dial as he walked out of the lab and Jemma sat down hard in her chair because her legs had started to tremble slightly.

She tried to ignore the slowly churning whirlpool of feeling deep in her gut and, as much for distraction as hope of figuring it out, she continued to work the problem. The least she could do was properly organize her data. Not to mention, focusing on something besides how she felt was easier—especially since there was little she could do about the situation causing her intense emotions. 

Sometime in the late afternoon, Bobbi came into the lab, clearing her throat from somewhere near the doors. Jemma looked around to find that the lab was practically empty, she was one of the only ones there.

“So, most of us are going to meet his plane,” Bobbi said, her tone carefully neutral.

“Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Jemma answered cheerfully, even as a sudden visceral fear gripped her.

“It feels weird,” Bobbi said, looking up contemplatively. “I mean, he’s practically a celebrity. A lot of the newer people are coming just to see him in person. Sheesh, it’s gonna be like meeting the Beatles or something for them,” she added, grinning wryly.

Jemma smiled and nodded, keeping her eyes half on her notes. “Oh, is that where everyone’s gone? It sounds like quite an event.”

“You’re not coming, are you?” Bobbi surmised, putting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, I’ll see him soon enough,” Jemma said with certainty. “He’ll likely want to get to work straightaway after he arrives. Coulson has asked that we put the very highest priority on this project. It’s quite critical.”

Bobbi nodded sagely. “Okay. I just thought it might be nice if you came with us. I get it though. Don’t wanna seem too eager. Playing it cool.”

Jemma turned around to protest that she had no idea what Bobbi meant and, even if she did, she would never do such a thing but the lab doors were already swinging and she just caught a glimpse of Bobbi’s back as she headed off toward the hangar.

Jemma sighed and debated what to do. Worry kept her rooted to her station, however, and she tried to keep her mind busy by continuing to work on the neural simulations she’d begun programming. That was, until she heard the slight squeal as the door opened behind her about an hour later. She didn’t turn around, just sat with her back to the door and listened to the rapid beat of her heart drumming in her ears until she heard a few quiet footsteps and then, “Hello, Jemma.”

It felt like her body turned in slow motion even though she knew it couldn’t have taken more than a couple of seconds, but time seemed to stretch out before her as thoughts tore through her brain at light speed. Would it be awful? Would he hate her? Not want to work with her? She didn’t know but if the answer to any of those questions was yes, she didn’t know what she would do.

When her eyes landed on him, in a dark blue suit with his tie loosened and his jacket laid over his arm, she was struck most by how much he was exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him.

“Hello, Fitz,” she managed, poking her tongue out to lick some moisture back to her lips.

Of course, she’d seen him occasionally in the magazines that Daisy often pushed in her face as she said, “Can you believe it? That’s our Fitz!”

Nevertheless, Jemma still pictured him as she’d seen him that last night before he’d gone away. Now, his hair was a bit shorter on top and he looked slightly thinner but his eyes were the exact same shade of blue that she remembered and his lightly stubbled cheeks still shone gold in the bright lights of the lab.

“You’re well, I hope?” he asked, sliding his hand over the back of his neck. The gesture was so familiar that Jemma’s lips began to curl into a slight smile, it instantly reminded her of the shy, self-conscious boy she’d met at the Academy.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he immediately pulled his hand away. Then he took a few more confident steps into the room and laid his jacket across a vacant chair. Jemma realized that he looked less nervous than he did uncomfortable and it sparked the return of her own fears.

“I’m fine,” she said, it came out slightly clipped and far more curt than she’d intended in her anxiety. She saw him press his lips together and she tried to start again. “I—we really need to get this weapon sorted out. It’s critical. Lives are in danger.” Mentally she cursed herself for jumping back into old habits. Going back to the mission had always been her go-to avoidance tactic.

Fitz, for his part, didn’t look as disappointed as she’d thought he might. Instead, he pulled the knot in his tie free, dragged it from beneath his collar and then slipped it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

“Yeah, let’s get to it then,” he said inscrutably. “Show me what you have so far?”

Jemma tried not to be overly discouraged at his willingness to put personal issues aside and work. They’d always been able to do so and it didn’t mean anything special now. It was just old habits again or, at least, that was what she hoped.

“Of course,” she said, her tone, again, too-short.

Tucking her hair back over her ear, she began showing him the simulations she’d created along with all the data she’d compiled on the weapon’s effects on Daisy’s physiology.

He moved closer, in order to better see her screen, and she was disappointed that he was apparently using some sort of cologne now. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she had missed the smell of him—his faint natural, mannish scent. It had been the first thing that she’d forgotten after he left. Only able to recall that she had always enjoyed it, she couldn’t recall the particular variables that made up that indefinable smell that was, in her mind, just Fitz.

She realized that he’d asked her a question but she wasn’t sure what it was. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked what happened when Agent Calvin used that particular frequency on the mice,” he said, his clear blue eyes unreadable.

“Eh,” she said, looking through her notes but she saw nothing on that particular data point. “I’m not certain. Do you have an idea?”

He shook his head. “No, I was just wonderin’. I’m sure there’s somethin’ more Calvin must be missin’. No doubt you just need some fresh eyes on it. I’ll go over all of it. You’ve been at this all day though,” he said with a small smile, the first since he’d arrived. “I can tell by the look of you. Why don’t you go an’ have a rest?”

“I’m fine,” she said, bristling slightly. Realizing she was repeating herself somewhat unconvincingly, she added, “I mean, I’m not tired. I can help you.”

He sighed, scratching through the stubble under his jaw with his fingertips. “Well, why don’t you rest now and start fresh in the mornin’? Let me familiarize myself with your data and I’ll come up with a plan, okay?”

Her first thought was that he really didn’t want to work with her after all and she felt a slight sting of rejection. Then she realized that he wasn’t saying that by any measure. However, he did seem to be treating her overly carefully, just as he did after she got back from the blue wasteland. At the Academy, she and Fitz had stayed up for forty-eight hours straight at times to finish their projects and he knew perfectly well what she was capable of. She wanted to be angry at him for continuing to treat her like some breakable object that needed to stay carefully on a shelf but she also understood that she was likely being irrational. What he was saying made perfect sense, she had been working on the problem for two days straight after all and if anyone else in the world were saying this besides her best friend Fitz—whom she hadn’t seen in over two years—she’d jump at the chance to let him start working in peace so she could start fresh in the morning.

But this _was_ Fitz.

It stung that having been without her for two years, he was so soon ready for her to be gone again, even until morning. Jemma knew she didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to be in his presence even if just in the same room. The sudden craving made her feel unpleasantly needy and pathetic but she wanted to speak to him, look at him, touch him, even see if she could get a whiff of the real him beneath his mildly acrid cologne.

With a start, she realized that they hadn’t even touched. From the moment he’d entered the lab, it felt as though they were joined again by some unseen force. It had always been so palpable to her that she often didn’t even think of touching him because it seemed a paltry thing compared to the true bond they shared. Not to mention, touch was a connection they’d always struggled with. Fitz had never been as comfortable with physical contact as she was and she’d always tried to respect that. Now, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him. But the fact remained, she still didn’t know where they stood now. Had no clue how he’d react.

She felt tears looming again and she decided that perhaps he was right. Tears had been her reaction to events all too often lately and rest was likely exactly what she needed.

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll, eh, see you in the morning.”

He nodded absently, sitting down at her station and beginning to type. She watched him for a moment, silently hoping he would turn and speak to her again, ask her a question, or even just look at her—but he didn’t—and she swallowed down her disillusionment over their reunion and quietly left the lab.

She walked back to her bunk, planning to shower and change before she went to the kitchen to pull something together for supper. As she walked, she marveled at how differently things had gone since Fitz left than how she’d believed they would.

Here he was now, with his own company, Exerotech, rising quickly in the ranks of the leading trendsetters in the technology field. He was not only the lead innovator at the company, he was also their unlikely spokesperson, hence his newfound notoriety. When he left, she’d expected him to go to another of the rapidly growing S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities or perhaps get a job in the private sector but starting his own company was rather a surprise. The incredible success was only shocking in how rapidly it had come into being, she’d always known Fitz possessed the brilliance to make himself a success in anything he chose to do.

* * *

After her shower, as Jemma approached the kitchen and lounge area, she heard Hunter’s rather loud voice as he asked someone a question. Hunter was often several beers deep by this point in the evening and she pitied whoever it was who’d gotten sucked into his conversational vortex.

Then, even though she couldn’t yet make out the words, she heard Fitz’s low tone answering Hunter’s question. She came to an abrupt halt just outside the archway.

“You’re not stayin’ long, I’m guessin’?” Hunter said, “What with your fantastic money makin’ business to tend to and all. Bobbi tossed out how you’re likely goin’ to be on the bloody Forbes 500 next year—dependin' on stock prices or somesuch,” he added, rather dejectedly.

“How long I’m stayin’ is a bit up in the air,” Fitz answered. “I mean, I’ll have to see how this project goes after all.” Jemma was a bit proud of how he pointedly ignored Hunter’s mentions of money.

“I imagine your situation with the ladies is vastly improved now your life’s been enhanced with tremendous amounts of wealth and fame, eh?” Hunter couldn’t keep his words from dripping with insinuation.

Jemma held her breath without intending to until Fitz said, his tone slightly lackluster, “No. Not really. I mean, I’ve been too busy workin’, gettin’ the company off the ground.” He sounded a bit more teasing as he added, “S’a lot of work runnin’ a billion dollar tech company, you know?”

“Oi, but what’s the bloody point if you ’aven’t got a bird on each arm like that lucky bastard Tony Stark, yeah?” Hunter said it as if he were personally affronted by Fitz’s answer.

Fitz’s voice was low and quiet as he answered, “I don’t need that. Just," he sighed, "the right one.”

Jemma’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. Intellectually, she knew he might not be speaking about her at all but a sudden hope bloomed in her chest nonetheless.

“I’ve ’ad lotsa _right ones,_  mate,” Hunter said and laughed boisterously.

She heard Fitz’s answering groan and, feeling like a bit of a criminal for eavesdropping, she turned and headed back toward her bunk. She kept some crisps tucked away and one unhealthy supper wouldn’t kill her.

Jemma tried not to let her hopeful exuberance get out of hand. Fitz, after all, might only be speaking of finding _someone_ special, not necessarily _her_. He hadn’t tried to contact her in over two years. It seemed a bit much to expect that he would still be interested in something _more_ between them. Fitz had been hurt so many times. Not only by her inadvertent actions but by general circumstances after she’d returned from the blue wasteland. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that he wouldn’t want to wade into such murky and dangerous waters again.

Fitz had been so willing to help her get back through the portal when she’d asked it of him that, even now, it made her heart overflow with love for him just at the thought. For months, they’d explored how to open the portal until she’d begun getting the horrible flashbacks and anxiety attacks that made her feel as though she were reliving it all over again.

Director Coulson had found a new psychologist to treat her at the base after the incident with Garner and she’d started speaking with her. It took a few more months to determine that what she'd remembered from the planet was little more than her mind’s own construction. Nothing more than a false front to hide the true horrors she’d had to face while trapped on that barren world alone. The data from her repaired mobile phone had confirmed the facts—she’d been alone the entire time. The news had thrown Jemma into a deep depression. She’d feared that she was mad and felt unable to trust her own mind. Continued counseling had eventually reassured her that the trauma she’d suffered was the culprit more so than her mind. Still, she lived with the fear that she might somehow revert to fantasy when things became too difficult for her.

The worst part of the ordeal was telling Fitz there was no need to open the portal, that, in fact, she’d made up her romance with another man on that distant world as a way to cope with her loneliness and despair. She’d worried that he wouldn’t understand or that he might be upset further but he’d only nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. Afterward, however, he’d continued to coddle her even more than he had previously, continually handling her with kidgloves.

She’d quickly grown exhausted by his treatment, as if she were some invalid. It was only a reminder of all she’d suffered and it made her feel weak when she wanted to feel strong. Finally, they’d argued over it and he’d withdrawn from her. She felt horribly guilty that he was hurt but it helped her a great deal that she could get by on her own. Fitz, as usual, was all or nothing and his withdrawal persisted. Saddened but needing to feel independent, she let it alone. In her need to know that she didn’t actually need anyone to function again, she’d forgotten that it was okay to want someone.

With no further obstacle between them other than her still-healing psyche, Jemma believed that Fitz still had hope of them one day going on their long-awaited first date. But the fact that her mind had constructed an affair with someone she’d never met before troubled her. The meaning eluded her but it niggled, tickled at the back of her mind. Why someone else? Why wouldn’t her mind imagine Fitz coming through the portal after her instead? It was a question that, when combined with the fact that it had taken her and Fitz nearly a dozen years to admit to feelings other than friendship, amounted to something she didn’t understand. Jemma hated it when she didn’t understand something. It was an all-consuming ache that wouldn’t go away, it just lingered and tainted the idea of being with Fitz in that way.

She tried to focus on her treatment, getting better, hoping that eventually she would forget her need to define exactly had made creating someone new a necessity or why she and Fitz had never realized before that they might have something more than friendship. She wanted it not to matter but, at the time, barely seven months after her rescue, it still mattered.

Then, one day, Daisy pointed something out to her.

Glancing over her shoulder at Fitz, she whispered to Jemma, “He’s awfully mopey these days, isn’t he?”

Jemma looked over at him, sitting at his station with his shoulders a bit slumped, looking like he was lost in thought between tasks. “What do you mean?” she asked. He’d seemed somewhat altered to her ever since the coma but she’d never really tried to define it.

“I don’t know, I just—I haven’t seen him like this since—well, since you were undercover,” Daisy whispered.

“I don’t, er, well, this just seems like—Fitz. I mean, since his injury, anyway,” Jemma admitted.

Daisy was already shaking her head. “Jemma, no. He was a lot different when you were, um, you know, on the planet. It was like he had a purpose or something. I mean, I’m sure he was upset and all, but he just kept moving, you know? He didn’t just, I don't know— _stop_. Not like this. Not like after the coma.”

“Thank you, Daisy,” Jemma said, slightly absently. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

The thought wouldn’t go away once it had occurred to her: Fitz was waiting for her. Putting his life on hold until she gave him the go-ahead to continue. The whole idea was infinitely saddening. Not the least of which was because she had no idea when, or even if, she ever would be ready for what he was so obviously hoping for. She struggled daily with her panic, her fears, her worry that perhaps she and Fitz were never meant to be. The universe had certainly done its best to keep them apart. Going as far as sending her halfway across the galaxy to separate them. She couldn’t bear the idea of Fitz just stopping—for her.

She came to his bunk one night after dinner. She knocked but the sound of blood pumping quickly through her ears seemed so much louder than the paltry rap of her knuckles on the the wood.

He looked almost startled once his face appeared in the doorframe.

“Can I come in?” she asked, tucking the hair over her ear and trying to hide her rising anxiety.

He didn’t answer, just stepped back, pulling the door open to allow her through. There was only the bed to sit on and, not wanting to give the wrong impression, she opted to stand. She tried not to pace as Fitz sat down on the bed with his hands resting flat on his thighs and, at the look of trepidation on his face with his eyes so wide, she felt terrible already. She knew there was nothing that could soften the blow she was about to deliver.

“Fitz,” she began, “You’re my best friend in the world and—” She stopped when his eyes dropped down to the floor by her side. Despite his effort to hide it, she'd still caught the hurt, sad look that was rapidly becoming his most familiar expression. Without thinking, she went down on her knees before him, taking his warm hands from off his thighs and gripping them in hers. He looked stunned and did little more than grip her fingers back. “Fitz, I’m so very sorry that I’m not ready for anything," she pressed her lips together, afraid of hurting him by being too blunt, "Well, for more than that, er, our dinner. I–I think that’s what you’re waiting for, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, searching his face.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not expectin’ anything from you, Jemma. Don’t—” he paused, directly meeting her eyes for the first time. “Don’t even worry about that. If you do, I mean, eventually, want that, it’ll be—” He let out a sudden dry laugh and after a beat continued, “Well, it’ll be great, I’m sure, but if you aren’t—even if you _never_ are—it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’ll always be here for you, Jemma. Best friend or," he met her eyes significantly, " _more_ than that.”

Jemma felt like she wanted to cry but she knew she had to keep her head about her in order to do this correctly. She had a goal—to help Fitz.

“Fitz, we never really talked about why I left, why I went undercover,” she said, and his eyes instantly searched out anything to look at but her, his hurt was still nearly palpable. “I’m sorry, Fitz. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone but I believed that I was doing it for you. I didn’t want to hurt you but you seemed to struggle so much more with me here and I just wanted to help you. I’m sorry if I was wrong. I only tried to do what I thought you needed.”

There were tears standing in his eyes but they didn’t fall, only bulged from his lower lids and remained—just as the hurt had for so long. But then his face relaxed minutely and he nodded once. It was a slight movement but she knew that he understood—that he believed her.

She squeezed his fingers and continued, “I don’t ever want to make you feel that way again, Fitz. I don’t want you to feel as though I’m leaving you—but, I—” she swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat, “I need some time, some space, to heal and I think that it might be better for the both of us—” His eyes had been growing wider while she spoke as if he knew where she were headed but was hoping that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t able to hold his gaze as she said the final words, the ones that couldn’t be taken back. The words that might end everything if she said them and he didn’t understand again. “—if you left. Perhaps, to one of the other new S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities?” She glanced up to gauge his response—his lower lip was quivering slightly and the frozen tears had begun their slow slide over his cheeks.

Jemma felt like she couldn’t breathe suddenly, her panic coming at a most inopportune moment. She gasped for air as it felt like ghostly fingers wrapped around her throat. It caused her to inadvertently grasp onto Fitz’s hands too tightly, holding on for dear life as her body was overwhelmed with the message that she was about to die.

“Jemma?” he questioned, he had never seen her in the full throes of a anxiety attack before.

She couldn’t answer him. Jemma was tense yet trembling, an oily sheen of sweat was popping out on her entire body, she felt like the world was moving and she was staying still and then her stomach began to roil ominously as saliva pooled under her tongue. All she could think to do was breathe more calmly, attempting not to hyperventilate. The worried look on his face was only making it worse but then he was sliding off the bed onto his knees in front of her and pulling her tightly into his arms.

“You’re okay,” he said. “Just breathe, nothin’ can hurt you. It’s just scary s’all but you’re goin’ to be fine. Breathe, Jemma. I’d never let anythin’ hurt you.”

She tried to focus on his words, the feeling of his fingers stroking down her back so soothingly and the sensation of his warm breath on her damp skin. Suddenly, her muscles began to relax, her hammering heart was slowing to normal and she could breathe again.

No longer stiff and frozen, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The tears that had been stinging at the backs of her eyes ever since she’d entered his room began to cascade down her face, slipping off her jaw to soak into the fabric of Fitz’s button-down. He only held her, murmuring soft, calming words and rubbing his sure hands warmly up and down her back. Jemma cried until the tears were gone and nothing escaped her but dry sobs and a few weary sighs. By the time she finished, she’d somehow ended up sprawled across his lap with her face against his now-damp shoulder as he held her to him. She felt him press a small, chaste kiss to the top of her head and her stomach dropped low, causing her to suck in a shuddering breath.

She looked up at him, knowing her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was covered with splotches, yet somehow she wasn’t surprised at all when the look on his face was unchanged, still pure love. He picked up a tendril of her hair that lay across her cheek and tucked it back behind her ear.

She opened her mouth to speak again. To say something. Anything from ‘I love you’ to ‘make love to me’ passed through her mind but before she could speak, he said: “I know, Jemma. It’s not the right time. I know you’re right. I’ll go if that’s what’s best for you.”

Suddenly, she wanted to cry all over again but couldn’t deny that the wisdom of the words was no less true now that he agreed with her.

“I think it’s what I need,” she ground out through her tightened jaw. “I think you need it too, Fitz. You need to move forward, not languish here, wondering every day when or if I’ll improve. That’s not fair. Not for either of us. I just want you to be happy. Please be happy.”

With his eyes to the floor, he nodded slightly but then he met her gaze with an expression she almost didn’t recognize. Later, she would realize it was one she hadn’t seen on his face in a long time, it was curiosity.

“Can I ask you a very personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he said and he touched a finger to her shoulder, just barely brushing over it.

She nodded. “Ask me.”

He took a deep breath and she knew it would be serious but she had no inkling what it was he would ask.

“Why wasn’t it me?”

She instantly dropped her eyes to her clasped hands as she began to wring them. Afraid that she knew exactly what he meant but wanting to be certain before she tried to answer, she asked, “What do you mean?”

as she glanced up, he rubbed a spot just over his eyebrow, looking uneasy. “Why do you think you invented someone you never even met before, just read some article about once?” She could feel his eyes on her even though she couldn’t meet his as he asked. “Why was that who could keep you goin’, give you hope and—love?” He said the last word so quietly that she could barely hear it.

She felt the well of tears boiling up from below again but she breathed deep and calmed the irksome bubble of emotion once more. She tried to think how to respond to his question. She was asking him to leave and the only thing he’d asked of her was this one query and she decided that she wanted to answer it for him. Unfortunately, she hadn’t even been able to resolve it for herself. She looked up, meeting his startlingly blue eyes, and suddenly the true reason came to her.

“I needed you here, Fitz, trying to get me back. Even in the darkest part of my mind, I think I knew you were the only one who wouldn’t give up. I wanted to believe you’d find me somehow. I just didn’t know when and I had to go on living somehow. You did give me hope, Fitz. Really, you’re the only one who did.”

For a moment, she thought he would kiss her, bring his tender-looking lips down to hers and, if he did, she wouldn’t stop him—she couldn’t. She also knew it would be cruel of her to allow it and then still ask him to go. Because it was still true, she did need more time. Jumping in too quickly might ruin everything. But her resistance was weak. She wanted it. Desired him in that moment. Just not the pain it would likely cause them both. So, she only looked up at him until he finally pulled her into his arms again, hugging her to his warmth, as she took in the raw smell of him—soap, a manly tang and something sweetly spicy underneath.

They each said goodnight when they parted and Jemma had felt good about their talk—until the next morning.

Fitz was gone. He left nothing but his letter of resignation on Coulson’s desk with a note saying he would be available should they need his help.

With no way to find him when a call to his mum gained no new information, she’d heard nothing for three months. Not until Daisy shoved her tablet in Jemma’s face with a magazine article including a photo of Fitz on-screen. Jemma had followed his new course ever since.

As the months wore on, and she improved in both her mental stability and confidence, the urge to contact him was ever-present. But, somehow, it just never seemed the right time—either there was an emergency at the base, her panics would grow worse, or his new career would seem to rise to the stratosphere. Then she would wonder if she’d destroyed everything, if she’d finally alienated him beyond the point of no return. Then months became a year and one year became two and the time became its own obstacle. Shame that she hadn’t tried to speak to him in that span overwhelmed her. Even so, he’d never contacted her in that time himself—not a text, email, call, nothing—and after a few months, she began to believe it was deliberate. He didn’t want to speak to her or see her again. Their relationship was over, she had finally suffocated it. He had needed that air to breathe to keep the fire burning perhaps and, depriving him of it, she’d smothered any chance they ever had together.

* * *

The moment he got off the plane, seeing everyone there to greet him, Fitz was astonished by the reception he received and also very happy at seeing his friends again. The fact that Jemma was the only one not there seemed a rather pointed reminder that she still wasn’t ready. He tried and failed to tamp down his disappointment. He would’ve been perfectly happy if she’d only welcomed her best friend back—even if that’s all he was or ever would be. He got her message clearly, however, and he tried to be respectful of her feelings once he got to the lab.

Even so, he was overwhelmed just seeing her, his rapid heartbeat was evidence enough of that. It had been a little more than two years and even with photos and memories to keep him, somehow he’d still forgotten just how beautiful she was. Either that or she’d gotten more so since he’d left which seemed difficult to believe—or more likely was that any facsimile just couldn’t live up to the reality.

Her manner was cool and he assumed she wanted to keep a distance, make sure he understood that things weren’t any different. But as soon as he came closer, attempting to get a look at the data on her screen, he was practically overcome. It all hit him at once, her sweet scent, the boundless depths of her eyes, her tortuously full lips, the generous scatter of freckles across her forehead and nose. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, touch her in some way but he clenched his fists at his sides and did no such thing. He would never push her to do anything, ever. He would do anything to help her but nothing that might hurt her—no matter how much he wanted it. He knew that if he asked, she would likely agree but that wasn’t what she needed. He’d left so that she could heal without his distracting influence. He wouldn’t intrude on her process now.

Unfortunately, he still just wanted to be near her, just that. Ever since he’d left, his world was made up of shades of gray. He worked, ate, slept, dreamed but it was all colorless and dull. But just being in the same room with her was as if all the colors had been restored to his vision. Listening to her describe her thought process on the weapon had been like listening to the world’s most beautiful symphony. And all he wanted was a bit more.

So he’d lied when he said he didn’t have an idea on how the weapon worked, even though he’d already figured out what it was both Jemma and Agent Calvin were missing. He knew it was wrong to keep it from her but he just didn’t want to leave her yet and as soon as he solved the problem, he would no longer be needed—or likely wanted. After Jemma left the lab to go rest, he easily figured out how the weapon worked and then began to run some simulations of a counteractive defense field that could be projected ahead of the agents and prevent further injuries. To put the device into production, however, he would have to tell Jemma just what he was up to. Only a few days, he told himself, and he would end the charade. He would fill himself with a few more memories to last him until there was, hopefully, a next time.

He couldn’t really fool himself that after two years she would decide that a relationship between them was suddenly a go. When he realized that she hadn’t come to meet the plane, he’d accepted that the best potential outcome was that they might be friends again, perhaps even work together again—but nothing more.

* * *

As wonderful as it was to chat with all his friends again—and even more intimate conversations with Hunter last night and Daisy at breakfast—Fitz couldn’t wait to get back to the lab. He touched the pocket of his jacket again and, feeling the edges of the little box, he tried to let his anxiety bleed away again.

Jemma was already there when he entered the lab. He wasn’t surprised, she’d always been the early riser between them but he’d set his alarm particularly early so he might see her before most of the lab techs arrived.

She turned without his saying a word and he suddenly felt like he was on the spot. He chuckled slightly, easing the tension, in his own mind, anyway.

“Hello,” he said, feeling awkward as hell.

Her expression was slightly amused. “Good morning, Fitz. Did you find anything interesting last night?”

Like a bloody hound, she was. He didn’t know if she was just digging or if she’d found something out so he played it cool.

He shook his head. A bit too much, he decided, and stopped. “Ehm, no. Why?”

She went from slightly amused to slightly annoyed in the blink of an eye. “Because you were _supposed_ to be looking for something interesting—”

“Oh, course. Right,” he agreed. “Ehm, but I didn’t. I did find somethin’ else in my luggage, however, that you might—” His accompanying smile was met with a frown. Shite. So much for friendly banter.

“Well, we can just—you want to get to work. Ehm, I can see that. Yeah. Okay. Let’s just—”

He hurried over to collect the preliminary notes he’d started taking on the weapon. Nothing fancy, just some observations that Jemma and Calvin had missed and a correction of one mistake that Calvin had made. He gave them to Jemma who perused them while glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She finished reading, placing the last sheet facedown on the countertop in front of her.

“Fitz,” she started and it was a tone he recognized instantly.

He pulled the box from his pocket and held it out to her. “Better late than never, right?”

Jemma stared at the box in his hand for a moment, then her eyes went back up to his.

“For your birthday? I know, I missed it but only by a couple of days,” he said hopefully.

She looked down at the box again.

“Hey, guys,” Daisy said, walking into the lab. She took in the sight of Fitz holding a small box out to Jemma and froze. “Oh, I—um, should—well, crap.”

“What is it, Daisy,” Jemma said, her tone utterly professional.

Fitz closed his hand around the box and tried to put a mask of calm on his features. The last thing he needed was the news of his and Jemma’s imminent betrothal being spread around the base.

“I’m going out on a pick-up this afternoon and I just wanted to see if you guys came up with anything to counter that new weapon yet?” Daisy’s voice was rather high as she looked desperately from one to the other of them. It looked as if she really would rather just run from the lab and the only thing keeping her was Jemma's thin veil of decorum.

At the mention of the weapon, Jemma glared at him rather pointedly, which he rather pointedly ignored. Then she looked back to Daisy. “No, I’m afraid we haven’t come up with anything just yet. I feel that we’ll have something _quite_ soon however.”

“Okay. Great news,” Daisy said and, without waiting for more of an explanation, she quickly retreated.

Fitz was surprisingly ready for it when it came.

“Leopold Fitz!”

He sighed and put the little box on Jemma’s workbench. “Just open that when you’re less upset, okay?”

“I can’t believe you’re lying to me,” Jemma said. She paused and when Fitz looked back, he realized her eyes had filmed over with tears. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I’m not— _lying_. Not exactly,” he started but Jemma’s incredulous look halted him. “I’m just—okay, I didn’t tell you _everything_ I found out. It’s the frequency. You just need a device that can send out a counteractive field. I’ve already started the simulations. I’ll send you my real notes. I’ll have the correct frequency by the end of the day at the latest.” He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his whiskers. “I’ll be gone by then. I hope that’s acceptable?” He turned and left the lab, feeling like a fool to think he could pull the wool over Jemma’s eyes but mostly just full of sadness that she wanted him gone so bloody much.

* * *

Looking after Fitz as he hurried away, Jemma blinked back her sudden sheen of tears. She didn’t understand why he would lie to her. The last time they’d had dishonesty between them, it had caused an unpleasant rift in their friendship. She didn’t know why he would risk such a thing again, though, she realized, things weren’t exactly going well for them at the moment. She looked down at the little box on her workbench. It was rather obviously a jewelry box and, for some reason, when she’d first seen it in his hand, her heart had begun to race.

She swallowed hard and flipped open the box.

Inside, was a necklace and a carefully folded note.

The note said, _“Dear Jemma, I wasn’t sure if a substitute for the necklace you lost would be just another reminder of that time but it seems long enough that you might be ready for something different. –Fitz”_

Jemma subconsciously reached up and touched her bare throat. She hadn’t worn a necklace since then and it most definitely would’ve been a reminder of her time of despair, a very confusing remembrance. Fitz had made her that necklace early on in their friendship—a small rose, its vine twisting around and looping over the chain—and she wore it nearly every day. In truth, she’d always thought it was meant to be a bit symbolic—that to get to her deeper essence, one had to go through the thorns. Or perhaps that was just how she thought of herself? It was, for many years, a memento only of her best friend. During her time on the blue planet, she’d left it for Fitz to find at her entry point and, after a sandstorm had buried it, she’d never seen it again except in her fantasies. Her distraught mind had evidently created an image of herself with her keepsake intact and most of her false memories were recalled with the necklace resolutely in place on her neck. It made it an unfortunate reminder of her hopelessness and desperation.

Jemma freed the chain and pendant from the box. She recognized the same workmanship as her previous rose pendant but this was in the likeness of a small bird, its tiny wings were spread as if it were just taking to the air. She unhooked the clasp and put the necklace around her neck. It felt strange for a moment and then, it wasn’t, it felt as natural as anything.

A sudden restlessness made her go to look for Fitz, perhaps to apologize or, if not apologize, ( _she_ hadn’t lied after all) at least thank him for the gift.

She checked the kitchen, his old bunk where he was staying and, finally, at a loss for where else to search, she went out to the hangar where he evidently had his own private plane which he was apparently capable of flying (if Daisy was to be believed).

On the way out, she ran into Bobbi who was on her way in from the Quinjet and a mission with Hunter.

Bobbi shooed her still ex-husband inside ahead of her and asked, “Looking for someone, Jemma?” She nodded toward the nearby, unfamiliar plane, smirking a bit too knowingly for Jemma’s taste.

“I am.” She didn’t see any point in trying to hide that she was looking for Fitz. Unconsciously, Jemma reached up to run her fingers over the new pendant.

“That’s pretty,” Bobbi said, bending down to get a better look.

Jemma looked over at the small plane but saw no movement within and no sign he might be preparing to leave. “Thank you. Fitz gave it to me.” She rather shyly added, “For my birthday.” 

Bobbi slapped a hand to her own forehead. “Oh, no. I missed it, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Jemma smiled reassuringly. “Please, don’t worry about it. You’ve been very busy, I understand. Daisy and I, well, we had a small celebration.” She tipped her head diffidently. “It was quite nice.”

“I hope it had a lot of sugar and booze,” Bobbi said and winked.

“Sugar, anyway,” Jemma agreed and chuckled. “We had cupcakes.”

Bobbi smiled approvingly but her lips slowly pursed and she asked, “So—why’s Fitz hiding from you?” She raised one brow questioningly.

“Hiding? He’s not hiding—I don’t think he is, anyway,” Jemma said, once she’d recovered from the sudden turn in the conversation.

Bobbi’s brow somehow went higher. Jemma met her challenging brow anxiously, her foot tapping the asphalt intermittently.

“He lied to me!” Jemma burst out suddenly when she could take Bobbi’s sharp look no longer. She glanced around the hangar surreptitiously and then continued in a much more hushed tone, “He’s supposed to be helping with this new weapon obviously and, well, he’s already figured it out apparently—and then, he didn’t even bloody well tell me!”

“That’s adorable,” Bobbi said, grinning wildly.

“What?!” Jemma chirped incredulously. “That is the furthest thing from adorable I’ve ever heard of.”

Bobbi raised both eyebrows this time then she put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He misses you, Jemma. He probably just wanted to hang around a little longer.”

Once the new information had sunk into her brain, Jemma managed a thick, “Oh.”

“You have a thing for birds?” Bobbi asked, indicating the necklace again.

“What?” Jemma asked, still pondering Fitz’s potential motivation for lying. “Oh, no. Not really.”

“Why’d he pick a bird then?” Bobbi wondered aloud.

“I’m not really sure. He gave me a pendant once before, it was a rose,” Jemma explained.

“That one’s not hard to figure out,” Bobbi said with a smirk.

“It isn’t? I just thought," she shrugged, "a flower. Men always think women like flowers, don’t they?” Jemma guessed.

“Okay, sure,” Bobbi said, looking at her askance, “Let’s go with that.”

“What did you think?” Jemma wondered.

Bobbi shook her head, trying and failing to suppress a smug grin. “English rose? It’s kind of a thing.”

Jemma wanted to laugh at herself for not thinking of it. “Of course.” Then she remembered. “But—Fitz, he wouldn’t think—I mean, we weren’t—” she stuttered out haltingly. "That was a long time ago."

Bobbi continued to grin. “It always seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Feeling a bit confused, Jemma parted with Bobbi and headed back to the lab only to find Daisy there looking curiously at the jewelry box on her desk but not touching it. Jemma headed over to find her friend smirking at her.

Her smirking friends were beginning to get on her nerves.

“So?!” Daisy asked, looking around the lab quickly, Jemma presumed, for Fitz.

“So,” Jemma said drawing out the vowel. “He gave me this—for my birthday,” she said, poking a finger toward the tiny bird on her neck.

Daisy moved closer and picked up the pendant then examined it closely. “Did he make this? I mean, I kinda hope he did because he’s, like, a billionaire or something now and he should definitely be able to afford better jewelry than this.”

Jemma snatched the pendant back from Daisy’s fingers. “Yes. He made it. Go away now, please.”

“What?” Daisy said, slightly dreamily. “I’d love for a guy to make me jewelry. That’s great.” She shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to a dude buying me the biggest-ass engagement ring on the planet either—but, hey, that’s just me.”

Jemma looked around worriedly. “That’s not even in question. Please, can you just—this is—things aren’t going well between us,” she finally admitted.

“They’re not?” Daisy asked, surprised. “He’s making you necklaces and it’s not going well?” The look of surprise evaporated off her face, replaced with a look of concern. “Are you self-sabotaging again? You said you were working on that!”

“Shhh,” Jemma warned. “I’m not. I mean, I don’t think I am. I can’t really sabotage something that I don’t know I want, can I?”

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t consciously know that you want it? I mean, I guess, if you don’t consciously want it, you’d have to be unconsciously self-sabotaging. I don’t think you could consciously self-sabotage something you didn’t know you wanted.” Daisy put her hands on her hips and grinned a bit sardonically. “Because if you were consciously self-sabotaging, you’d have to know you wanted it, right?”

“I think this conversation is giving me a headache already,” Jemma said woefully.

Daisy relaxed her stance, the smile melting from her lips, and took Jemma’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure things will work out.”

Jemma laughed a bit wildly but it tapered to a few humorless chuckles. “Why on _Earth_ would you ever say _that_? About Fitz and I? When has one bloody thing ever ‘worked out’ for us? Please, tell me that!”

“Okay, that was a stupid thing to say,” Daisy admitted, casting her eyes downward, clearly shamed.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” Jemma said quickly, shaking her head, instantly remorseful as she brushed her hand along her friend’s arm. “It wasn’t stupid, you were trying to make me feel better. I was just whinging at you. Sorry.”

Daisy shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

Jemma looked up contemplatively. “You know what I wish?”

Daisy shook her head.

“I wish I didn’t have to choose. That the choice could somehow be made for me or that something would happen that made it all just so incredibly obvious what the right thing to do was. You know what I mean? Something _undeniable_.” She sighed heavily. “Look what happened the last time I thought I was choosing something.” She shook her head at the memory of her phantom lover from the barren world where she might’ve died, if not for Fitz.

“Jemma, waiting around for decisions to be made for you—that’s not real life,” Daisy warned. “Real life is making choices for yourself, even making mistakes sometimes. Risking getting hurt or even hurting someone else. Sometimes you just gotta jump in with both feel, for better or worse.”

“You’re bloody determined to marry me off, aren’t you?” Jemma joked, avoiding the seriousness of Daisy’s advice.

Daisy chuckled lightly but when her laughter had tapered off, she said, “Well, _I’d_ like to, you know, someday. With the right guy—”

“You and Lincoln?” Jemma asked, unable to keep the excitement for her friend from coloring her tone. “He’s really quite handsome, isn’t he? Slim. I’ve always admired that. Muscles are fine but there’s something about a lovely slim bloke,” she said, grinning at her friend. “I’ve always admired a nice bum as well. His is rather nice, I’d noticed.” Daisy giggled slightly behind her hand. “God, I miss sex,” Jemma blurted.

“Jesus, Jemma,” Daisy said, laughing explosively and checking around the lab again for anyone listening in.

“What? I do though,” Jemma said. “It’s been so long, I can’t even remember how long it’s actually been. Bloody hell.”

“And that’s my cue to head out of here,” Daisy singsonged. “I do _not_ want to compare notes with you there. But let me know if you guys figure something out to counteract that weapon before I head out, okay?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything,” Jemma said, somewhat surprised that she was a bit sad that their conversation was ending. “Alright. Go if you must.”

They shared a brief hug and then Daisy turned to leave. 

Stopping in front of the doors, she turned back and said, “You know, you should really give him a chance. If you’re ready, that is.”

“That’s always the question though, isn’t it? What does that even mean now? Ready? For what exactly? Sex?” She smirked rather fiendishly. “Yes, _please_. But love? A relationship? Marriage and children? I know I’m not ready for most of those things. And it would be foolish to think there wouldn’t be any further obstacles. He lives in California now and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. And there really is nothing wrong with my life the way that it is, why am I even contemplating this?”

“Subconsciously, Jemma, you know exactly why,” Daisy said and winked before pushing out dramatically through the doors.

Jemma sighed and decided that what she really needed to do right now was focus on work. Anything to distract from all the feelings churning up a terrible ache in her belly. She went over the simulations that Fitz had begun and determined it would still be some time before the results would be in. Instead, she looked at the schematics for the counter device that he'd created.

“Jemma?” She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. He’d come in so quietly, either that or she’d been so focused that she hadn’t heard him enter the lab.

While her heart beat double-time, she turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, Fitz?”

He looked rather browbeaten as he began to speak. “I wanted to apologize, Jemma. You were right, of course, I lied to you.” She dropped her arms to her sides as Fitz continued, “It’s just—I wanted to see you. I never wanted to intrude on your life now but—“ He sighed and ran a hand though the hair over his ear. “It was an opportunity and I’ve missed you, Jemma. I thought we could spend a bit of time together again—just a bit.” Even with the distance between them, Fitz’s eyes appeared glassy, he shook his head. “But I can see I was wrong. I mucked it up as usual. I never should’ve come. I’m only makin’ it more difficult for both of us, aren’t I?” He had kept his gaze carefully cast to the floor at her feet until the end and then he glanced up and his blue eyes were locked on hers. Suddenly, it felt like she were falling in. They were so deep and fathomless, Fitz’s eyes, and she felt he could see into her heart as easily as she could see into his.  

“Fitz, I—” she stammered. She took a breath. “I’ve missed you. Missed being with you. There was so much—” she trailed off, not sure what she was trying to say. She shook her head weakly, unable to pick up the thread.

Fitz took several long strides toward her and took her hand in both of his. “Jemma,” he said, as she looked down, stunned, at their clasped hands. “I wasn’t goin’ to bring any of it up, not without your say so but—now I’m here, I just have to ask—“ Jemma found herself staring up into Fitz’s eyes, feeling his hands growing slightly damp in his nervousness. “Would you have dinner with me?”

Jemma felt like all the air was drawn out of the room suddenly, a hundred punches to the stomach. She couldn’t get her lungs to expand and take in more oxygen. Then she looked into Fitz’s softly searching, sea-blue eyes and drew in a long, steady breath.

“I–I don’t know,” she said, drawing her hand away from his. She remembered their last ‘date’ after she’d returned from the blue wasteland and how, though he’d done all he could to mitigate any pressure she might feel, her mind had been so fearful of disappointing him that she’d evidently constructed an entire fantasy world around her time away. The idea of putting herself in that position again terrified her. “I—eh, can I think about it?”

She recognized instantly Fitz’s tough, defensive shell going back around him and it was like a douse of cold water over her head. He’d made himself vulnerable and, once again, she’d inadvertently torn into his soft underbelly.

“Of course you can, Jemma.” There was no mistaking the sharp tang disappointment in his tone.

It occurred to her that he’d believed she was going to agree immediately. She didn’t know yet if she would agree at all but uncertainty was suffusing her mind. The logic of why they could never work romantically—why _she_ might never function romantically—inundated all lines of communication in her brain until there was nothing left of hope or love, only fear and guilt. Fear of hurting him again and guilt over all the times before.

“Alright, if it seems reasonable, then I’ll give my answer by tonight—before you have to leave.” Jemma had no clue what she was doing, rattling off deadlines as if love were really as easy as that—as if it could be controlled by schedules and timelines and flowcharts. But rationality was all she had to cling to, wasn’t it? Her feelings were a jumble of ephemeral impulses with nothing solid to grab hold of.

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” Fitz said quietly, turning away purposefully and going over to another workstation to check his simulations.

His façade was excellent, she might’ve thought he didn’t care at all if she hadn’t noticed that the knuckles of his left hand were pure white as he gripped the edge of the countertop. She gnawed her lip and wanted to go to him—tell him that it wasn’t him, it was her, but the cliché seemed absurd and as unbelievable as it must be to anyone forced to listen to the hackneyed line. So she went back to the schematics with her chest tight and blinking away a shimmer of tears in her eyes.

* * *

Fitz sat there for a few minutes, pretending to work, just trying to keep up appearances.  

He felt like a complete idiot. Clearly, he’d misinterpreted when he’d overheard Jemma and Daisy talking in the lab.

They’d been speaking about how things never went well between he and Jemma, then: “You know what I wish?” Jemma’s voice drifted through the partially open lab door. “I wish I didn’t have to choose. That the choice could somehow be made for me or that something would happen that made it all just so incredibly obvious what the right thing to do was. You know what I mean? Something _undeniable_.”

Fitz didn’t know what to make of Jemma wishing the decision could be out of her hands, or her desire for some irrefutable sign.

“Hey!” Hunter whispered, sidling up beside him where he was flattened to the wall by the side door into the lab. “Why’re you standin’ here, mate? Bit of eavesdroppin’?” Hunter grinned mischievously.

Fitz’s face was hot and he couldn’t have been more embarrassed.

“Shoosh,” he warned, “Don’t give the bloody game away, then.”

Hunter nodded knowingly, then whispered, “Yeah, I know how it goes, buddy. Had the same thing with Bob. I get it—first you're breakin’ into 'er phone to check 'er messages, then you're listenin’ in on 'er conversations—”

“What?” Fitz gasped, “NO! I’m not—I’d never—” He took a breath. “Can you just—I just need a moment, okay?”

“Right,” Hunter agreed with a wicked grin. Fitz managed a slight smile only to get him to clear off so he could listen in once again.

“—really quite handsome, isn’t he? Slim. I’ve always admired that. Muscles are fine but there’s something about a lovely slim bloke,” Jemma said. “I’ve always admired a nice bum as well. His is rather nice, I’d noticed.” Fitz blushed furiously at Jemma’s description of him as Daisy giggled. “God, I miss sex,” Jemma blurted. Fitz’s mouth dropped open in shock. He felt extremely guilty for listening in on such a private conversation but he still couldn’t drag himself away.

“It’s been so long, I can’t even remember how long it’s actually been. Bloody hell,” Jemma said. Fitz hated the jealous little voice that congratulated him when she said that.

“Go if you must,” Jemma said playfully as Daisy started to leave and, feeling like a criminal but happy at his ill-gotten knowledge, he went to find a quick hiding place so he wouldn’t be caught in the act as Daisy left the lab.

Fitz felt relief washing over him throughout the entire conversation that Jemma, at least, still seemed to be interested in him in some way and it occurred to him that if he just asked her again, perhaps her decision might be clear enough.

He’d dared to hope that she would accept his invitation and he’d been stunned by her coldly calculated response. Ever since he’d arrived, it felt like her usual warmth were locked away somewhere inside her. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was really so changed or if it were only him she were keeping her inherent warmheartedness from.

For him, it had always been as though he existed in the darkness but, from the moment he’d met Jemma, she was the single ray of sun cutting through the blackness. Her warm radiance fell on him and he reveled in it, grew and thrived in its embrace, but he’d never once thought that he would lose it. His hope had dimmed on occasion when her light shone most faintly but the memory of it kept his hope alive that no matter what, she would always come back to share her brilliance with him again.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure. Were their paths diverging too greatly now? Was this the critical point where they finally parted ways for good? He just couldn’t believe that to be true. He felt the wrongness of it in every fiber of his being.

He’d allowed himself to consider the possibility that he and Jemma might one day be together romantically only because she’d told him that she wanted it too but that had been more than two years ago. He could and would accept that she’d changed her mind if that’s what she told him, but considering the possibility that she no longer even wanted their friendship made his mouth go dry with fear. When he'd left S.H.I.E.L.D., he thought she needed the time away from him—she’d asked him for it after all—and he would always give her whatever she needed but he’d never expected or planned for it to be permanent.

He stuffed down his anxiety and tried to focus on why he was ostensibly here—the weapon and engineering the device that would counter it.

It was late afternoon when he finally finished the refinements on his schematics and looked over to see Jemma staring at him. She looked away nervously, tucking a piece of hair over her ear as she went back to her screen. The fluttering in his stomach and the increase in his heart rate was more than enough to convince him that her eyes intently focused on him were more than coincidence.

Then all hell broke loose.

The warning klaxon started its shrill howling and the base was swaying and juttering—glassware and equipment clattering together, some even falling to shatter on the floor. And all Fitz could think of was getting to Jemma, protecting her from whatever was attacking the base.

He took the few long steps to close the distance between them, avoiding falling objects, as he crossed the unsteady, quavering ground.

Jemma’s eyes were wide, startled, her fear was apparent. She gripped the edge of her workbench as he stood there before her feeling utterly useless while they both swayed jerkily. He was afraid to touch her, worried about sparking an even more uncomfortable response in her, when glass containers began to fall from the shelves over her station. He didn’t know what chemicals or hazards she might store there now but he didn’t have time to consider it.

He urged her away, guiding her gently by her upper arms. She went willingly enough but with little of her own volition as he pulled her toward the center of the room where there were fewer things to land on them. However, there was also nothing to hold onto as they swayed unsteadily with the undulating floor. He was trying to keep her steady and doing very poorly when, without warning, she flashed him a keen look with her rich brown eyes and then slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. His chest swelled with some emotion he was afraid to identify as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted before they heard shouts from the hallway but the shaking of the room fell away for Fitz as they clung together, fitted perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. He was a lock and Jemma was the key—there was no one else in the world who would fit him so perfectly. He knew it like he knew the Fibonacci numbers or the harmonic sequence.

Then the doors were kicked open and he and Jemma were breaking apart as an unconscious Daisy was carried into the lab in Mack’s arms.

“The sedative’s not workin’ this time!” he cried, taking Daisy to a bed in the med bay and laying her down.

Jemma—seeming more herself despite the continuing earthquake—started a brain scan and then got a neural interface device and placed it on the top of Daisy’s head. She linked it to her tablet and it soon became clear that the overactive neurons were calming as the base’s trembling slowed and finally halted.

“Hydra was there first,” Mack said, shaking his head defeatedly. “They hit her again and this time I gave her the sedative right away but it only helped for a little while. Luckily, or we never would’ve made it back to the base. She’d have shaken us right outta the sky.”

Fitz put a hand on Mack’s over-sized shoulder and said, “We’ll have something to counteract the effects by tomorrow, okay?”

Mack nodded. “I better go call Coulson and tell him she’s okay. He’s out on a run with the ATCU. She is okay, right?” He looked pointedly at Jemma.

She smiled reassuringly and said, “Of course. She’s fine.”

“Okay. Good,” Mack said, he looked at Fitz and added, “It’s been good to have you back, turbo. I’ll be sorry to see you go again.”

Fitz couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.” He held his hand out to shake and it was quickly engulfed in Mack’s crushing grip.

Once Mack was gone, Fitz stepped behind Jemma and lightly laid his hand on her shoulder blade. “She _will_ be alright though, won’t she?”

“The damage to the cells is clearly cumulative,” Jemma said, showing him the previous scan of Daisy’s brain in a side-by-side comparison to the newest on her tablet. “I think she’ll recover completely this time but if she got hit again—I don’t know.”

He nodded. Jemma still looked upset. He wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety attack, Daisy’s new injury or something to do with him but he hated to see her upset for any reason.

“Are you okay?” he asked for lack of any better ideas on how to comfort her.

She nodded firmly, her mouth set in a line. “It’s been a long time since I came that close to a full attack. Thank you for—for, eh—helping me.”

“I didn’t do anythin’,” he disagreed with a slight shake of his head. “I only wanted you to be safe.”

“It was something,” she said, meeting his eyes and slipping her fingers lightly up the line of buttons on the front of his top. Her trail stopped just over his heart. Flattening her hand out, her palm radiated warmth into his skin right through the thin cotton.

He warred internally on what to do, struggling with the information he’d gleaned by overhearing her conversation with Daisy that morning. She wanted a clear sign, something undeniable—some way she didn’t have to make a choice? He didn’t even know what that meant.

He reached across and covered her hand with his and she looked demurely toward the floor but didn’t remove her hand. He saw the corners of her lips tighten in a slight smile.

He remembered what Daisy had said earlier as well:  _Sometimes you have to jump in with both feet, for better or worse_.

He leaned down slowly but when Jemma’s eyes came up, he saw that they were filled with anxiety. Her fingers slid up to his shoulder and tightened in the fabric of his button-down. He saw her chest heave as he closed in on her lips but then her eyes darted to the side, toward Daisy, and just as their lips were about to meet, she turned her head to the side, his lips falling just to the corner of her mouth instead.

He felt her fingers clench and unclench on his shoulder as he pulled back. The threat of tears burned at the back of his eyes and he was suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment. Heat spread through his cheeks and down his neck and he couldn’t bear for her to look at him suddenly. He turned his face away, bringing a hand up to cool the fire in his cheeks, and then he turned his back on her completely.

He heard her swallow loudly and then felt her hand on his back. “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

Emotionally, he wanted to laugh bitterly or be upset but, intellectually, he didn’t see why he should do either. He really had no reason to be upset, he’d made a go of it and she’d rejected it. That was always the most likely scenario. He had no reason to be bitter either, Jemma hadn’t lied to him, hadn’t been unclear. It felt unpleasantly final but she'd said that she would decide today. However, she’d also said that she didn’t _want_ to decide. What she wanted was a definite, unmistakable choice. Clearly, he didn’t know how to do that for her or perhaps he was never going to be an easy choice for her. He would always just be the difficult conundrum that she couldn’t quite force herself to agree to.

“S’alright,” he said, shaking his head. His face cooling, he turned around and tried to give her a smile. It was tight, he could feel it, but it was the best he could manage. “Later, yeah? You’ll let me know.”

Suddenly, Jemma’s eyes widened, her lip quivered and then she blurted, “I should get more sedative for Daisy.” She hurried away toward the supply area at a near-jog and Fitz wasn’t even sure what he’d done, much less what to do about it.

Giving a quick look to Daisy’s monitors and seeing everything in order, he headed after Jemma. Walking slowly, giving her time to recover, he stopped outside the partially open door, trying to decide what to do. He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from within, in fact, there wasn’t even any light. It felt a little ominous as he pushed on the door. It creaked eerily but he, nevertheless, took a step inside the darkened room, reaching out to fumble for the light switch.

“Don’t,” Jemma’s voice called out from the darkness.


	2. Emboldened By Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the smut, did you say? Deal. TOTALLY NSFW!

Trembling with emotion but having stifled her tears inside the comfortingly darkened supply closet, Jemma realized that what she really felt was intimidated. She’d seen Fitz leaning in to kiss her, his blue eyes so guileless, so earnest and hopeful, and she was suddenly overwhelmed, terrified of ruining everything and hurting him again. She’d turned her face away, hoping to forestall that pain, but then the sweet light in his eyes went dim and she knew she’d done it anyway.

There was so much expectation in his eyes, so much adoration, and she knew she could never live up to it. She wasn’t worthy of such feelings. A terribly flawed and damaged (if slightly above average) human woman is all she was. Certainly not fit for anyone who looked at her the way Fitz did. She didn’t deserve to be loved the way he seemed to love her—completely, unconditionally and unendingly.

His complete acceptance of her reflexive rejection felt like something inside her was broken to not immediately accept him and give herself to him in all the ways that mattered—heart, mind, body, soul. But she was damaged, flawed, hurtful, sometimes even cruel. She certainly didn’t deserve what Fitz was offering—such an untainted, pure and selfless love—but who _could_ deserve such a thing? She could never return such veneration, she was far too human for anything so immaculate.

She’d always been rather a mess when it came to romantic attachments. It was the reason all her relationships of that nature had been so short-lived. She was too independent, demanding, thoughtless and far too ready to call things off if it appeared things weren’t going to work out. She could never do that with Fitz, whatever they started would not easily be broken. Nor did she believe she would ever want to, she’d just had him back for a day and, already, she didn’t want to let him go again. It wasn’t even a particularly fantastic day.

The mistakes and mess that came with sex and relationships had never really been much more than a blip on her radar before now. With Fitz, she felt like she had to be perfect, she couldn’t make any mistakes—not because he wouldn’t love her, but because he would. He would endure all the hurts, all her mistakes, but never deserving any of the harm she doled out. For two lonely years, she’d lived without him so he could be happy yet here he was, asking for more pain, more hurt from her and she had to stop it, didn’t she? Let him go, so he could find someone worthy that deserved such devotion.

The door creaked open and he quietly stepped inside. In the faint light from the open door to the hallway, she saw him fumbling for the light switch.

“Don’t,” she said. She'd been crying, was already feeling near tears again, and she didn't want him to see her splotchy, tear-streaked face.

She was surprised when he closed the door behind him, blocking out all the light and engulfing them in pure blackness inside the little room. She heard the slight click of the lock engaging and suddenly her breath was caught in her throat.

She heard the slight creak of his footsteps as he crossed the short distance between them and she opened her mouth to speak, ask him to go, when she felt his fingers blindly catch hold of her hip. Though she could see nothing, the air itself felt full of some tangible force between them—thick and warm, it held her to the spot, frozen, like an insect in amber.

Slowly, fingers brushing upward searchingly, he made his way along her arm until he slid his fingers over her collarbone. Her heartbeat was all she could hear as he grazed the chain of her necklace and, while she trembled beneath his touch, he traced over it with a finger all the way down to the small bird at the center of her chest. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat or two and then he reversed course, his hand sliding back up against the side of her neck, just beneath her hair.

Her mouth dropped open again as she tried to think what to say but she was halted when she sensed him shifting toward her in the dark. His body heat seemed to radiate out against her, making her skin prickle, and then his warm, sweet breath ghosted over her face. She drew in a sharp breath—taking in his familiar, unadulterated scent which seemed to hang heavily in the air. Flutters of anticipation raced through her belly and she even felt the faint glow of arousal below that, hungry heat fanning out from between her legs. She knew what was coming but the knowledge carried no fear this time, only yearning.

His thumb traced the line of her jaw, trailing gently over her skin until it came to rest in the depression just beneath her lower lip. Very tenderly, he moved the pad of his thumb over the delicate skin. He started at the margin and caressed inward, carefully exploring the pliant flesh of her lip until he’d drawn it outward, just barely touching the moist inner surface. She gasped at the sudden heat, like fire in her veins, that his slightly odd treatment elicited. His thumb dropped away then but—though she’d known it was imminent, had wanted it desperately even—it was still almost a shock when his soft lips finally touched hers.

He pulled her lower lip between his and drew on it gently, making an almost obscene noise of lust. The rapidly growing heat of her arousal flared at the sound of his desire and, unthinkingly, she slid her hands up over his chest and onto his shoulders. The sudden solid feel of him in front of her, the warmth she felt under her fingers, made her heart beat faster as she pressed herself against him.

He brushed his tongue over her lower lip and then released it, his mouth finally pressing against hers fully. It was intense but slow, the way he caressed her lips—sweetly at first, as if he were testing her eagerness. His fingers slipped deeper into her hair, the tips massaging her scalp lightly. His other hand clutched at her waist, alternating between digging his fingers into the soft swell over her hip and gripping a fistful of shirt fabric as he tried to reign himself in. She let her own fingers move up his collar and along his neckline, finally slipping tentatively into the springy curls at the back of his head as passion began to overtake them both.

He let out another small, carnal sound and instinctively her mouth opened to him, letting him sweep his tongue inside to draw a tingling path along her own. Her legs felt quivery suddenly and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She inhaled heavily through her nose and then he was angling her head to the side, kissing her even more deeply while his thumb caressed a small circle over her cheekbone.

She heard a pleased hum and was surprised to find it was coming from her own throat. The muscles in her legs felt weak and she took a small step backward but she was clinging to his neck so fiercely that he came with her, their lips never parting. She felt the wall meet her back and then she truly began to lose herself. In the dark, she forgot her fears and plans for his happiness that didn’t include her. She never wanted them to be parted again.

She could hardly form a thought as she slid her hands down to his narrow waist, pausing just above the line of his belt. The throbbing ache in her pelvis was all too quickly reaching levels that required immediate attention and she took hold of the leather and pulled his hips against hers with unintentional force. As they clashed together, he gasped, breaking their kiss. She whimpered in protest, seeking out his mouth again. He confidently tipped her head, exhaling a hot, shuddering breath that fanned out over her throat, leaving in its wake a dapple of stinging gooseflesh. Then his mouth closed over the spot just below her ear and she moaned, long and low, pushing her body up into his as much as she tried to pull him down against her. He laid hot open-mouthed kisses down her throat until he reached the line of her blouse and then began to go up again but she wanted him to find new, unexplored places and she reached between them and began to unbutton herself. He quickly got the idea and was soon pulling the fabric free of her jeans, pushing it off her shoulders. His breathing was harsh and ragged, too fast, as he kissed his way down her chest. She locked her arms around the back of his head and thrust out her breasts, feeling wanton even in the dark.

She could feel his hand trembling slightly as he encircled her satin-clad breast with his thumb and forefinger. She filled her fists with his curls, urging him on, as his tongue darted out to find her tense nipple where it strained against the satin. As his mouth closed over it through the fabric, a heated moan issued from deep within her. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed at the needy, breathy sound of it. Cautiously, he slipped the strap of her bra off her shoulder, peeling the cup down slowly, and it made her whimper with increasing arousal. Her long-unused muscles throbbed deep in her core when he flicked his tongue over the now-exposed puckered flesh. The cool air made her nipples tense further adding a tinge of pain to the sweet bliss as he drew the peak into the heat of his mouth. The sharp bite of pleasure it brought felt like it ran on a live wire all the way through her. It brightened the flame of her lust until she was pressing her hips back against the wall trying to find some kind of relief for the too-long-ignored need in her.

She reached back and unhooked her bra, inadvertently arching against his still exploring mouth, before pushing lightly at his shoulder so she could let the garment slide from her arms. Her nipples were so painfully hard now as she reached out and took him by the wrists so she could slide his open palms over her naked breasts. He made a slight choking wheeze, but she ignored his awkward nerves and brought her hands up to either side of his neck, pulling him down to her lips again. With his hands crushed between them, his fingers moved reflexively over her supple flesh, squeezing and manipulating, as she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

For some reason, up to this point, Jemma hadn’t actually thought she was really making any decisions. In her mind, her body was merely responding and she followed in its wake, but as she felt his hips rocking against hers, she finally wanted to make one.

She began to ruck his button-down out of the waistband of his trousers, sliding her fingers beneath to graze over the warm skin of his belly but he flinched from her exploring fingers. Surprising herself and feeling like a nervous teenager, she tentatively moved her hand down to palm him lightly through his trouser. He made a noise that was part scandalized and part sheer relief. As she fingered the outline of his stiff cock through the layers of fabric, he quietly whined into her mouth, increasing the fervor of his kiss to something approaching frenzy. She could feel him fighting the urge to thrust against her hand and—not wanting it all over quite yet—she released him. Looking for the next logical thing to discard, she opened the button of her jeans and lowered the zip but, at the unmistakeable sound, Fitz gasped, abruptly withdrawing his mouth from hers. She guessed he'd now realized a heated snog session was less than what she'd now made her goal.

Feeling confident in her own powers of persuasion, Jemma leaned up to place a moist kiss to the hollow of his throat where the fabric of his top began to part—then she undid the topmost button. His hands were splayed over her ribs, fingers flexing nervously as she repeated the process all the way down, kissing just above each button before she twisted it open, until he began to flinch again as she kissed the spot just over his navel. She undid the last two buttons and pushed the top back off his shoulders. He seemed to hesitate for a second but then tugged off his cuffs and let the garment fall to the floor. Wrapping her fingers around his slender waist again, her thumbs pressed into the softness of his belly. She pulled him against her until their bare torsos were pressed together, loving the deliciously warm feel of him against the aching points of her nipples. He hummed with satisfaction when she laid a long trail of kisses over his naked chest. Caressing along the line of her back, he lightly fingered the nearly-invisible scar of her long-ago scoliosis surgery. She shuddered when he slipped one hand down inside her loosely opened jeans to cup her bum over the top of her knickers. He kneaded her cheek in his palm and she could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed a tender kiss to her jaw.

Slowly, he moved his hand lower, pushing his fingers forward between her legs and curling them against her sensitive lips. She gasped, grinding her arse back, seeking more contact with his fingers through the sodden fabric of her knickers. She nearly whimpered when he suddenly pulled his hand free and brought his mouth against her neck again, his tongue flicking out against her skin. She tried not to be disappointed at his withdrawal but then he moved his hand between them, reaching into her jeans to cup her vulva over her knickers. She was so sensitive just the pressure was sending thrills of pleasure through her enervated nerves and she groaned heavily when he slid his fingers against her again.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he murmured against her neck, almost panting.

“Shhh,” she told him.

He tensed slightly and she regretted it immediately. She’d been enjoying all the other noises they were both making and talking felt a bit like ruining it somehow—or perhaps it was more than that…

Nevertheless, she wanted to apologize but she was startled when he suddenly dropped down to his knees and began to tug her jeans down her legs. As he removed her boots, her breath grew shallow. His efforts convinced her that this was finally, really going to happen between them—they were going to make love. Her whole body vibrated with anticipation and, with a sudden sharp exhale, she shuddered involuntarily. It traveled through her limbs and she knew he felt it as he held her calf, pulling off the final cuff of her jeans.

He paused before drawing her clinging knickers down her legs. Then he stood, running his hands up her naked body from her shins all the way up to her throat. Unconsciously, she leaned back toward the wall, arching into his touch. He kissed her again deeply, and she drew him closer, curling her fingers into his waistband and tugging until she felt him hard against her hip. The air was full of both of their lustful noises—urgent moans, shuddering sighs, her own tiny whimpers of frustration. Fitz, stopping only to thumb her nipple and pinch it lightly, skimmed his long, gentle fingers down over her belly until he’d reached the small triangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. He turned his hand over to run the backs of his knuckles teasingly over her flattened curls, fluttering his fingers lightly against her until she wanted to squirm in protest.

She couldn’t help how she bent back, thrusting her hips forward as he followed the seam of her thigh on either side with his fingers splayed before he ran along her weeping slit. She keened when an electric spark of pleasure shot up her spine as he parted her lips and delved two fingers into her wet folds. Quickly, he found her tense, aching clit and his slippery fingers skated over it repeatedly. Fire zinged up through her as he tried focus on that all-important, needy, little point. Her hips rolled and bucked, trying to chase the pressure as he moved fitfully over the charged, throbbing nerves.

Roughly, through his trousers, he thrust his cock against her hip again. Her breath ragged, Jemma reached around to catch a handful of his generously rounded arse, pulling him against her and grinding his erection into her side. He made another gruff, animal sound and his tongue pushed into her mouth just as his fingers slicked inside her, stretching her open deliciously and moving within her. She began to pant, her head rocking back at the feel, losing his kiss in favor of oxygen. His mouth instantly went to work again on her neck, breath hot, as he nipped at her almost painfully while his fingers worked between her legs. She tried to imagine what it would feel like when he was finally, truly inside her. She groaned loudly at the thought and ground her clit down against his curled fingers, feeling like an animal in heat. She felt the tickle of her imminent finish and she rocked forward again against his hand, pushing her breasts out. Feeling her unrestrained movement, his head bent down so he could catch her nipple between his lips and, the moment she felt his teeth scraping and indenting her sensitive flesh, pleasure arced through her. Her muscles tensed, her body seemingly paralyzed on the outside, but within she was awash with sensation, buffeted by wave after wave of satisfying ecstasy.

Jemma hissed in a long, slow breath as she returned to herself. Fitz was still lightly sliding his fingers through her slick folds as he kissed her throat tenderly. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Her chest felt like it had expanded with it until it could no longer contain her feelings and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push it back down inside herself—it was just too big. Keeping quiet but with tears standing in her eyes, she found his lips and kissed him fiercely, her arms so tight around his neck he winced.

She loosened her grip minutely and went to undo his belt. As she pulled at it, his lips paused against hers but when he made no objection, she continued, undoing his button and zip. Now open for her exploration, she teased at the edge of his pants, dipping her fingers inside but going no further. She was still a little afraid of crossing this line. It was frightening but her excitement at the prospect of what might happen once it had been irrevocably traversed was spurring her on.

She had the fleeting thought of dragging the rest of his clothes down his hips and taking him in her mouth but she wanted to feel him inside her now. It had become a dire need—a necessity. She slipped her hand inside the elastic of his pants and closed her fingers over him. He was hot and pulsing in her hand, silken yet rippled with foreskin and larger than she might’ve guessed. She swirled her thumb through the slick fluid leaking from him. He reached up to cup her breast in one hand and the other moved up to clutch at her shoulder, his fingers tense but not quite painful. His breath was coming in little gasps as he waited to see what she would do. She squeezed him experimentally and he couldn’t keep his hips from moving, pushing up into her hand.

She leaned up and kissed his bristled jaw, flicking her tongue out to taste him, feeling the little whiskers prick her tongue and he sighed contentedly. She moved her hand downward, gripping the thick base of his cock and giving it a squeeze. He moaned urgently and she drew the edges of her teeth down his throat, dragging her thumb up the underside of his shaft.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered in his ear.

He swallowed audibly and said, “I–I don’t have a, ehm—a condom.”

“Good thing we’re in the medical supply closet,” she said a bit cheerfully, her tone still hushed in the quiet.

She pulled her hand free of his trousers, intending to find the right drawer by feel, but Fitz caught her by the wrist.

“Wait,” he said.

 


	3. A Fervent Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. This is going to have four chapters.

Jemma hesitated but, for a moment, there was only silence.

She opened her mouth to ask what they were waiting for, when he said, “I want to turn on the light.”

Jemma felt like the world—which had seemed to expand while she was closed in this small room—suddenly shrunk to the size of her own brain. All her fear and uncertainty came rushing back in like a tsunami of negativity. She started to tremble. What was she doing? Why had she let this happen? She’d ruined everything.

Then she felt his arms around her, his warm, solid chest against hers.

“Jemma, I love you,” he said, and she heard the watery quaver of tears in his voice. “I can’t just do this and then pretend it never happened—not that. Not one time and never again. Tell me it’s not just sex. Tell me that you want more than this too. _Please._ ”

But she couldn’t.

Her voice felt paralyzed by his plea. Any words she might’ve said were stuck in her dry throat like the never-forgotten sand of that blue and hellish wasteland. She opened her mouth but only a sort of choked gasp escaped. She thought how emblematic this was of how she always seemed to choose wrongly, always hurting him, and he deserved so much better.

“I’m sorry,” she finally eked out, but only because it was the one thing she was certain of.

He turned away from her instantly—leaving her reeling and alone in the dark. She heard the sound of him striking something metal, followed by a furious string of curses.

Tears streamed down her face unchecked but they were silent, devoid of the emotional outpouring that should’ve accompanied them. She felt numb. She heard him moving in the dark searching for his discarded top, the rustle of fabric—his button-down tucked in with sharp, flustered movements—then the metallic sounds of his zip and belt. She sat down on the floor, still naked, and pulled her knees to her chest. She heard the door as he unlocked it and then saw the bright strip of light as it fell across his familiar, cherished face. He turned to look back at her and she saw such sorrow in his eyes that she couldn’t draw breath for a moment.

“You didn’t ask me, but it’s a bird because—whether you wanted me in you life or not—I _always_ wanted you to feel free to choose what would make you happy, Jemma. That’s why I left. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I wanted your happiness. I hoped you might come back to me someday but—” he bit his lip and a glossy tear slipped down his cheek. Somehow, he managed not to sound bitter, as he added, “I guess I was wrong. I hope you will be happy someday, Jemma. I really do.”

She finally pulled in a shallow huff of air but already he was gone, ducking through the door then clicking it shut behind him. She didn’t know what to say anyway.

But then they came—her emotions. Rational thought was useless while they all crashed over her relentlessly as she sobbed. She had no idea how long she stayed in the dark little closet, not even caring if anyone came in and saw her nakedness. She just lay on her side, letting her tears soak into the rough industrial carpet until, finally, there were no tears left.

She pulled on her clothes and after a brief visit to the loo, she went back to the lab. Daisy had woken and been released by Dr. Benton and Jemma saw that Fitz had evidently started the fabrication of the device to counter Hydra’s new weapon.

Heading for the kitchen, hoping to find Fitz and perhaps attempt an explanation, she came across Bobbi instead.

“Hey,” she said, clutching a cup of coffee between her hands as she looked up from her tablet. “That was great news.”

“What?” Jemma asked, unsure what news she was referring to.

“You and Fitz, figuring out the weapon and creating a defense. Congrats.”

“It was all Fitz, I’m afraid. I didn’t do much at all,” she disagreed. “Speaking of Fitz,” she added, trying to sound casual. “Have you seen him?”

Bobbi frowned, sitting up straighter and putting her cup down on the dining table next to her tablet. “Jemma—he’s gone. He said you didn’t need him anymore.”

Jemma instantly burst into devastated sobs. It was as if her earlier cry-out hadn’t even happened. The floodgates reopened, tears streamed over her cheeks and dripped from her jaw as her shoulders slumped and shook convulsively. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to cover her face.

“Oh, honey,” Bobbi said, but Jemma couldn’t see her through the blurry sheen. Then she felt her friend’s arms wrap around her, pulling her in tightly. “What happened?”

“I gave up on him. In my own mind, but I still gave up,” she managed haltingly, through involuntary gasping sobs as Bobbi stroked her back soothingly. “I don’t deserve him. He should have someone so much better than I am. Who will love him unreservedly and never give up on him.”

Bobbi waited until her heaving, agonized cries had tapered down to the occasional hiccup and snuffle. By now, they were sat at the dining table, Bobbi holding her hand and occasionally handing her a tissue from the box at the center of the table.

“Okay,” Bobbi started, “I’ve gotta point out a couple of things. First and most obvious, Fitz doesn’t seem to _want_ anyone else, sweetie, he wants _you_. Second, who, _exactly_ , is Fitz gonna find that would make him happier than you?”

Jemma shrugged. “That’s not really the point. All I do is hurt him. I don’t make him happy is the fact to consider—I make him miserable.”

“Okay, but isn’t that because he can’t be with the woman he loves? I mean, if you actually got together—which is seems like you really want to do—wouldn’t _that_ make him happy and not miserable?”

Strangely enough, this wasn’t really anything Jemma had considered before. The reason for his unhappiness, in her mind, was _her_. But she’d never stopped to consider that perhaps it wasn’t actually _her_ but the _lack-of-her_ causing his anguish. That still left the final issue.

“I gave up on him,” she said desolately, tears already welling again. “He never gave up on me. He still hasn’t.” She wasn’t completely sure of the truth of that last statement but she certainly hoped it was true.

“I can see that you love him, Jemma. The fact that you’d rather he find someone else than be with you, if you make him miserable, is proof enough you love him more than anyone else probably ever will.” Bobbi looked strangely sad as she continued, “Not because he isn’t a great guy, of course, but that’s just not the kind of love that comes along every day.” She sighed heavily and patted Jemma’s hand again. “As for what happened on the planet, no one else is qualified to judge you for what you did to survive there. Somehow, I really don’t think Fitz is judging you for it at all. I think what you really need to do is accept that whatever happened there isn’t what will happen here. In that _very_ extreme situation, you did something to survive that you wouldn’t normally do. Now, you need to let go of what happened to you there and accept that everything you did is what allowed you to come back to him in the end—just start over from there. Let go of the fear that it will happen again. You were on a planet in a different part of the galaxy and Fitz still found you there, do you really think you’d ever make that same choice again? Or wouldn’t you believe, even in the most dire circumstances, that he’ll be there for you in the end?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma said, feeling sick at saying the words. “I hurt him so badly this time. I don’t know if he can forgive me.”

“Let’s find out,” Bobbi said, standing and offering Jemma her hand.

“Now?” Jemma scoffed, shaking her head. “I can’t leave now. I—the device—I have to make sure the fabrication goes smoothly.”

“That’s just fear talking,” Bobbi said, nodding firmly down at her.

“But what will I say? How can I explain?” Jemma felt her own face crumple. “What if he won’t speak to me?”

“I’m not worried. You’ll think of something to say,” Bobbi said, heading for the doorway. “I’ll talk to Coulson. You better pack a bag.”

Jemma’s heartbeat was overly rapid as she packed. She tossed things into her suitcase that made no sense, catching herself sometimes and removing the unwanted items with a shake of her head. In the end, she finally threw up her hands and hoped that she had some reasonable attempt at clothing and hygiene products. She realized that if he refused to forgive her, it wouldn’t matter what she packed. She and Bobbi would then likely be on their way back with no reason for extra clothes. She looked at her still-splotchy face and splashed it with cold water before she reapplied her makeup. Then, for reasons she couldn’t even fathom, she changed into a dress. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a dress one might wear in the daytime. She added a jumper and sighed at her reflection.

“Is this weird?” she asked her double in the mirror. She turned to the side and checked her profile.“It’s not that weird, is it?” She saw the sad, confused, worried expression on her face and she said, “I’m not crazy but talking to you would probably not be considered a healthy thing to do. So I’m going to stop now.” She turned away, balling her fists at her side. Then, biting her lip hard enough to hurt, she faced the mirror again, and said, “You did what you had to do to survive. It was necessary and it doesn’t matter here. You’ll never give up on him _ever_ again. It’s a given now that he’ll always be there for you and you will _always_ be there for him. It will become a scientifically provable fact. Is that understood?”

She nodded at her doppelgänger and, without meaning to, she began to cry again. At least this time, she understood why. It was because she knew it was true. With no other choices, she had done what she had to in order to get back to him. However, this was the real world now—it was filled with choices and she would always choose to believe in him.

“You love him and you deserve him,” she said, looking into the reflection of her own eyes. “Now repeat it.” Feeling like a bit of a madwoman, she said to her reflection, “I love him and I deserve him because I’ll _never_ give up on him. I’ll _never_ let him down again.”

She felt something like relief running through her—or some sort of release of tension that ran so deep she hadn’t even felt it. She collected her bags and headed for the hangar.

Bobbi stood on the Quinjet’s ramp with her hands on her hips. “Hmm, dress. You’re going all Bridget Jones, I see,” she commented.

“Bloody hell,” Jemma sighed, “I was wondering why I had that urge. Daisy and her preposterous romantic comedies.”

She didn’t mention to Bobbi that, all that time ago, she’d thought of wearing a dress on her thwarted date with Fitz. It felt romantic somehow, even if she thought it would sound a bit silly if she said it out loud.

“Wait? Where are we going?” Jemma suddenly thought to ask as she strapped in next to Bobbi.

“Saratoga,” Bobbi answered simply. When Jemma just looked confused, she added, “That’s where he lives. It’s pretty swank for Silicon Valley.”

Jemma’s heart still felt like it was beating too quickly and she nodded solemnly while the Quinjet rose through the air.

“How long will it take?” Jemma asked.

Bobbi chuckled. “Next thing, you’ll be asking me, ‘Are we there yet?’”

Jemma laughed along with Bobbi but her fingers were still clasped nervously in her lap.

“If I really punch it, about an hour,” Bobbi said, grinning conspiratorially. “I’m _definitely_ gonna punch it.”

Bobbi did her best to distract her but Jemma’s anxiety persisted stubbornly. After chatting about some of the newest base gossip, Jemma’s heart rate finally seemed to be approaching something like normal.

Then, Bobbi said, “We’re nearly there. About five.”

Jemma felt like her blood pressure skyrocketed and her hands began to tremble slightly. She’d mucked it up. He would hate her. She tried to think what to say. She’d had an entire hour and she hadn’t even bothered to think of what to say!

Just as she was really beginning to panic, she felt Bobbi’s hand on hers. “Calm down,” she said smoothly. “If you want my two cents, it’s gonna really suck for five, maybe ten minutes, and then it’s gonna be great.”

Jemma tried to keep her breathing in check as Bobbi landed the plane on a very large, very green field of manicured lawn.

“This is the place,” Bobbi said, pointing outside as the ramp lowered. There was a large Spanish-style house about fifteen yards behind them.

“Are you certain?” she asked, looking at the large, ornate home. Nothing about it said ‘Fitz’ to her.

Bobbi only gave her a cutting look in reply.

Jemma pushed some hair over her ear and sheepishly averted her gaze. “How long will you wait?” she asked, her insecurity at a peak.

“I’ll wait a half-hour unless you text me that it isn’t going well,” Bobbi said, her tone as professional as if they were on an undercover op. “If it’s all good, I’d appreciate a heads up there too.”

Jemma got up, nodding in agreement, and was surprised when Bobbi stood and gave her a very firm hug. “I’ll leave your stuff on the patio if I don’t hear anything. Call me if you need anything at all.”

Jemma felt another surge of emotion but she just rode the wave this time, rubbing a slow circle on Bobbi’s back until her friend’s grip loosened.

“I’m not worried at all,” Bobbi said with a smile as they parted. “I just hope this doesn’t mean Exerotech is getting a new scientist instead of S.H.I.E.L.D. getting one back.”

Jemma faltered slightly, realizing there was so much more than just how they felt now. But she had to try.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” Jemma said, swallowing over the lump in her throat.

“Don’t worry about it. When things go well, you let me know, Hunter’s gonna owe me a thousand bucks,” Bobbi said with a positively devilish grin.

Jemma’s mouth dropped open in shock. Though, really, she should be used to it by now. There really was nothing the team wouldn’t bet on.

Jemma walked to the ornate wooden door of the mansion, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She raised her fist to knock but, before she came in contact with the door, it opened to reveal Fitz standing on the other side.

He was wearing the same pale blue button-down and navy trousers he’d been wearing earlier. He had a mug of tea in his hand and he let the door swing wide, as he said, “Hello, Jemma.”

“What—but how—”

“State of the art security,” he explained. “Lets me know when strange cloaked planes land on my property. Is there somethin’ I can help you with?”

She hadn’t really planned how this was going to go but already it wasn’t going how she might’ve thought. She tried to get her bearings.

“Can I come in?”

He took a sip of tea and backed up casually, holding the door open for her as she stepped inside.

Glancing around the sparsely but richly furnished home, Jemma realized something that she’d rather missed back at HQ—her best friend had really changed in the last two years. She gnawed her lip as she looked around.

“It’s lovely,” she finally said, feeling strangely like she needed some sort of an opener. She turned back and she couldn’t help noticing that despite his attempted pretense of indifference, he was nakedly staring at her bare legs.

Shaking off his gauche slip, he dragged his eyes away, and asked, “You’ve come to see my new place, then?” His words were somewhat blithe but she saw no humor in his eyes, only hurt.

“Fitz,” she said with a sigh. “I came to speak to you. I—“ She felt tears threatening again and she tried to hold them back but they filmed over her eyes and made her vision blur. “I don’t know quite how to explain but it was definitely more than that—sex. I just didn’t think it was right.”

“Right?” he questioned, she heard his hope and also his attempt not to jump to conclusions.

“Me, Fitz. I didn’t think I was right—for you,” she tried to explain.

“What does that even mean?” he questioned, voice slightly too-loud, his upset swirling under the surface of his words.

She recognized that she still wasn’t saying it correctly because she was trying to dance around it. She hated to bring up what happened on the planet, partly for fear he would suddenly agree with her and decide that she really wasn’t good enough for him, but also because she knew the very mention brought the pain back to his eyes. She was so tired of seeing him hurt. All she wanted now was just to see him happy.

“I gave up,” she admitted. “On the planet, I gave up that I would ever see you again. That you would find me. I didn’t believe in you.” She quickly devolved into teary half-sobs, wiping at her eyes, trying to keep them clear so she could see his response.

His voice rather astonished, he said, “That’s just—Jemma, I’m takin’ it back.”

“What?” she asked, not understanding.

“I’ve been tellin’ people for years that you’re smarter than me and I’m takin’ it back now. I can’t believe you would think that made any difference.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to do more than smile tightly at his attempted joke. “Fitz, of course it makes a difference. It _should_ make a difference. You went across the galaxy to find me. You didn’t give up hope that you would find me, yet—I gave up on you.”

He looked down and his voice was very small as he said, “I did though.”

“What?” she asked, stunned. All she’d heard from everyone once she’d gotten back was how Fitz had never given up hope, how he’d tried anything and everything he could think of to get to her.

“Coulson told me he was goin’ to go to Sheffield an’ let your family know you were MIA. He said I had to let you go. I didn’t want to, but I knew he wouldn’t let me keep tryin’ to find you—so, I, ehm, I broke into containment and—well, I tried to let it take me. I wanted to either go wherever you were or, if you were dead, I wanted to die as well. See, I’m no better, I gave in to despair. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

Jemma listened, horrified, realizing that Fitz had been, once again, prepared to die rather than live without her.

“Oh, Fitz. No,” she moaned, going to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, tears streaming from her eyes.

She heard his mug fall to the tile floor and crack but she didn’t care as he pulled her in with his arms locked tight across her back holding her against him so very solidly. It occurred to her that even though he was capable of change, he was still always her constant. Their connection felt fixed and enduring. If only they themselves weren't so fragile and temporary, she thought it might last until the stars went out.

She was still sniffling, trying not to yell at him, as she said, “You’re not allowed to kill yourself over me. That’s one thing that needs straightening out right now. Got it?”

He nodded against her shoulder. “Anythin’ else?”

“I still want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said, wondering if it even mattered as she clung to his shoulders. It suddenly seemed like a less important conversation for another time.

“Me, as well,” he said, pulling back but keeping his hands on her shoulders. “I miss it. Not as much as I missed you but—“ He shrugged.

“What about all this though?” she said, waving her arm around the room for lack of anything better to indicate his new life.

“It’ll keep,” he said, grinning a bit smugly.

“But, you’ve built it yourself, Fitz. It’s _your_ company,” she argued.

“I didn’t build it for me,” he said, picking up a lock of hair falling across her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.

“What?” she asked, bewildered.

“I built it for _you_ , Jemma. You wanted me to go and give you time to heal and I did that because you needed me to. I would do _anything_ you needed me to, Jemma, just to show you how much I love you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Didn’t you know why I called it Exerotech?”

Jemma shook her head slowly. “Exero is Latin for ‘put forth’,” she said uncertainly. “I just thought it was more obnoxious vernacular from the technology world.”

Fitz was smiling and shaking his head. “Metaphors really never have been your thing. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at all. In Latin, it also means, ‘show’. I wanted to _show_ you that I could be exactly what you need me to be, Jemma. I can do that for you.”

“I don’t want you to be anything but yourself,” she said, reaching up to grasp him by the neck and bring him down to kiss her lips.

They were just growing heated when he put just enough space between them to say, “Would it be mad of me to ask—are we datin’ now?”

“I think we can skip dinner,” she said, sliding her hands down to cup his bum. She felt a bit pleased when his face went quite pink. Smirking impishly, as she looked through the enormous living room, she added, “I think, if your fortified palace has at least one bedroom then we can skip to the sex straightaway.”

“It actually has seven bedrooms and I think you’ll find I’m more than amenable to that idea,” he took a quick breath, “likely, at least once in each of them.” His eyes were wide and he looked a tad shocked, a lot embarrassed and more than enough interested.

“Promises, promises,” she said playfully, giving his bum a last squeeze before letting him go. “My bags are on the patio, would you mind helping me?”

“You were plannin’ on stayin’, were you?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Well, I can call Bobbi to come pick me up if it’s an inconvenience,” she said, playing his game and returning the challenge.

“No, no. I always have room for…” He frowned. “My best friend whom I also now get to have sex with?” he finished cheerfully.

She tipped her head from side-to-side. “I think that’s a bit long, don’t you? Might get tedious to repeat at parties,” she said, beaming. “What about ‘girlfriend’? It’s descriptive _and_ to the point—what more can a stereotypical label offer?”

“I think I’d better get your bags now before your witty banter winds me up into a shambolic tangle of desire,” he said, his look of adoration now tinged with something far more lustful.

“That was quite the verbal experience,” she said with a laugh.

He squeezed his brows together. “Yeah. It was, wasn’t it? I think you might already have me at your mercy.”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“Ehm, not really. No,” he agreed. “It’s only somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about for four or five years or thereabouts...”

“That all?” she asked, continuing the game.

“Well, tha’s an incredibly loaded question. If I say 'yes' it makes it sound like I didn’t find you attractive before and if I say 'no' it makes me seem like a perverted minger who fancied you from the start.”

Jemma laughed lightly, then bent over slowly to clear up the pieces of broken cup. Making sure he had a good view, she reached back to smooth her dress over her bum with one hand.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said resignedly, while she was still bent over. “I admit it. I fancied you from the start.” She stood with a terribly smug grin, setting the broken bits on a nearby table. “I never thought that, you know, this sort of thing was goin’ to happen between us though. It wasn’t why I wanted to work with you—well, mostly. And it _definitely_ wasn’t why we became friends, if anythin’, that made it harder—er, more difficult. I mean, I just—you’re just—so completely gorgeous and—well, I’m only a man.”

She nodded knowingly. “Weak.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, nodding emphatically in return.

“That’s a lot of pressure to live up to though, isn’t it?” she questioned, suddenly feeling a bit scared again. “You’ve been—” she cleared her throat lightly, “ _thinking_ about this for thirteen bloody _years_?”

“You’ve got to be jokin’? I think _I’m_ the one with all the _pressure_ , aren’t I? I mean, all you have to do is—you know—” he waved a hand vaguely toward her body, “take off your kit.”

Jemma gave him her most incredulous look as she folded her arms over her chest.

“That came out so very completely and utterly wrong. So untrue and a horrible thing to say,” he said instantly, his eyes round with worry. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Is this goin’ to require gettin’ on my knees? I’m okay with that.”

Jemma couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She moved closer so she could lean up for a languid kiss. “I think all is forgiven if you get my things on the patio.”

While Fitz went for her bags, Jemma texted Bobbi to let her know that Hunter owed her that thousand.


	4. Turning From The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final installment. Finally!
> 
> Happy birthday _week_ , Pi. (Or so I've declared it.) For you, Fitz-Simmons will do it six ways from Sunday. ;)
> 
> VERY, VERY NSFW!
> 
> (This may be the smuttiest smut I've ever smutted!)

“So, this is my bedroom,” Fitz singsonged, seeming rather uneasy as he set her suitcase and smaller bag down by the door. “No pressure, of course, there _are_ six others if you—“

Interrupting his nervous chatter, Jemma leaned up while tugging him down to bring their lips together in the middle. She felt him relax against her, exhaling so their breath swirled momentarily together and then she was drawing the mixture down into her lungs gratefully. He tasted of sweet tea and mint when their mouths came together. She shivered at the sensation of his moist, tender lips sliding over hers. It sent a little thrill of pleasure through her to accompany the increasingly-familiar pull of wanting to be as _close_ to him as possible.

She dug furrows into his tightly-cropped curls as he slipped his tongue beyond the border of her lips, stroking lazily within. But Jemma didn’t want soft, sweet kisses right now—she wanted fire. His hands were splayed over her lower back, gently pushing her hips against his, and she readily pressed back. Thrusting her hips forward, leaning away slightly while drawing him to her, she tried to wordlessly encourage him to heighten the abandon with which he kissed her.

As was usually the case, he did not disappoint her. While Fitz plundered her mouth, he took hold of the front of her cardigan, shimmied it off her arms and dropped it behind her to the floor. Immediately, she brought her hands to his neck again, fingertips brushing over pinpricks of whiskers and soft, soft skin.

He slid one hand up along her spine. His fingers delicately tracing the hollow along her scar, until he finally reached the nape of her neck. His kisses rapidily grew more greedy as he buried his fingers in her hair and bunched it in a fist. As lips and tongues flurried together, his grip slowly tightened in her hair until it was almost painful. She tipped her head back as he sucked her lower lip and felt heat flare through her pelvis at his odd, slightly-possessive display. It brought out some little competitiveness in her that made her want to push back against his provocation. Taking his short curls in her fist, she began to gradually clench her fingers until she felt him hiss against her lip.

The sweet and tender humidity of his mouth was quickly replaced with a hot, wet savagery that she found incredibly erotic, almost intoxicating. Their breath no longer mingled but pushed against each other, huffing out between the broken seal of their lips and fighting for dominance in their throats.

She could feel him rubbing against her, hard and ready, and it made her sex pulse in sympathy. However, she didn’t want a hasty, unremarkable shag—not after so many years. She wanted an intimate, passionate, unforgettable night of lovemaking—and Jemma Simmons could and _would_ make that happen.

It actually had been quite a long time since she’d had sex. The last person she’d been with was her boyfriend-of-the-moment, Jacob—something-or-other. She’d broken up with him, with very little hesitation, when they’d gotten assigned to the Bus. She’d subsisted on battery-powered help ever since.

Her recollections of her phantom lover were salacious adventures to be sure but while her mind had carefully constructed those fantasies, in reality, she’d been huddled in meager shelter from dark sandstorms, exploring her prison while cutting her knees on sharp rocks or foraging for bitter roots in the desolate desert sand. Survival had been paramount and the dispensable urges of her body had never been a consideration.

Once she’d returned, with everything between Fitz and herself, and then her memories returning, she’d been rather confused on the subject. Suddenly, she found an odd new regret in giving herself the bit of pleasure that she was able. Wanting to sidestep such feelings, she’d avoided her physical needs entirely for quite some time, that was, until she’d begun to feel that perhaps she was losing touch with her body to some degree. So, with little enthusiasm, she would occasionally haul out her trusty vibrator just to reassure herself that she was still capable and not, in yet another way, broken.

Earlier that day, Fitz had given her the first orgasm she’d had in months and the first a man had given her in years. It was also quite definitely the most impassioned she could remember feeling in longer than she cared to remember. She wanted to do the same for him.

They were only a couple of meters from the bed and she took a hesitant side-step, kicking her flats off as she did and hoping he would come with her. He followed easily, humming his approval against her tongue with each combined step. She parted from him and, still eschewing words, urged him back on the bed with a gentle nudge. She felt strangely shy with Fitz suddenly. For so long, this was something she’d never even let herself think about with him but, despite her lack of boldness, she still felt she was making progress—after all, they still had on the lights.

He sat down heavily, leaning back to make room for his stiff cock jutting up against his fly. His length was heavily constricted by his trousers and even his belt. Lifting her dress, she straddled his lap and began to unbuckle him eagerly. He actually sighed with relief as she undid his zip. She settled herself over him; he was so very hard as he pressed himself upward against her sensitive center. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shivered at the thought that all that separated them now was just so much fabric.

Lowering her head to touch the tip of her nose to his, she met his eyes as he gazed up at her. His expression was happy yet almost disbelieving, as if he still couldn’t accept any of this were real. She met his lips in a reckless kiss—desperate to show him how much she loved him and how grateful she was that he loved her too. A muffled moan escaped him as he slid his hands up her bare thighs beneath her dress. She rocked her hips, nudging her clit against his cock with enough pressure to make them both gasp, stealing air from each other’s lungs that didn’t seem enough.

With pleasing sureness, his hands moved along the line of her thighs until he was gripping her bum, kneading her flesh deliberately.

“Your bum—s’bloody brilliant,” he murmured against her lips, his fingers caressing closer and closer to where she really wanted them. Too caught up to reply, her lips curled into a grin which was quickly swallowed up by their passion.

Jemma, in the higher position, was controlling the incredible fierceness of their kiss. Quickly drawn breaths, their rough carnal outpourings and the wet slide of their lips were the only sounds in the room. As he squeezed and manipulated her arse, he rhythmically rutted her against his rigid cock, and she was already beginning to feel the deep quiver in her belly that preceded her climax.

Then she felt his hand sliding over her thigh, his fingertips tracing the line of her knickers, until he slipped his clever fingers beneath, into the sultry wetness between her legs. Involuntarily, her head rocked back and she let out a harsh, throaty keen as his fingers moved through her folds to land on the restless throb of her clit. She panted out some senseless affirmatives while he stroked, slipping a finger into her as she began to flutter around it. While she trembled with pleasure, he reached up with his other hand to draw her lips down to his.

As her bliss ebbed, his fingers stilled and their kisses grew languid again. Sucking on the tip of his tongue, she sighed contentedly, and knew what she wanted next.

Meeting his eyes, she said, “It’s been a long time for me.”

His face was slightly flushed and his breath was still coming more quickly than normal. He nodded, “I know. Me, as well.”

She gave him one last peck on the lips and slid off his lap. Immediately, she dropped down to her knees and began running his belt out through the loops. She yanked at the corner of his fly, raising her eyebrows expectantly to indicate how he should really make this business of getting his trousers off a team effort.

“Since before you left S.H.I.E.L.D.?” she asked, tossing his belt aside and though she felt a bit intrusive in asking, she wanted there to be no secrets between them from now on. Then she replayed what he’d said in her mind. “Wait. What? You _know_?”

His face went rather ashen—or, at least, a touch more pasty than usual. “Ehm, I meant—I guessed?” His eyes were too wide and then he chuckled a bit manically. That, and his bloodless face was giving him away completely.

“Are you _lying_ to me again?” she asked incredulously, sitting back on her heels and crossing her arms. “For the _second time_ in one day? That’s not starting things off very well now, is it?”

His daft smile faltered and he immediately covered his face with both hands. “Fuckin’ _hell_ , Jemma.” He took a deep breath and lowered his hands enough so she could see his eyes. He gritted his teeth. “I overheard you talkin’ to Daisy. You said that you missed sex because it’d been a long time.” His delivery was rapid fire and, once he'd finished, he looked terrified.

“What _else_ did you overhear?” she asked, her face flushing slightly as she tried to remember what else she’d said during that conversation.

“Not the entire conversation, I swear!" he said, holding out a placating hand. "Just bits and pieces. I couldn’t hear well.” Seeing she hadn't flown off the handle yet, he replaced both hands on his thighs, still looking nervous and ready to defend himself should she grow angry.

“And?”

Still looking worried, he bit his lip, his brows coming together uncertainly. “You described me…handsome, slim, nice bum?” he prompted.

Jemma pressed her lips together to suppress a smile and decided not to correct him. That, at least, was a white lie—and it was true enough, in the end.

“Was that _all_?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and, not meeting her eyes, said, “I heard that bit about," he sighed heavily, "how you wished you didn’t have to choose or that the choice would be obvious.”

Jemma felt her heart sink. “I’m sorry,” she said instantly, leaning forward and gripping his knees. It seemed such a cruel thing for him to hear, as if choosing him were so difficult. “It _was_ obvious, Fitz. I just—I was scared. I was afraid I didn’t deserve you. There were too many excuses to hide behind and that was what I was doing. Pretending that the choice _wasn’t_ obvious so I didn’t have to make a decision. It was just, well, a lie that I told myself. It wasn’t you—never you.”

He slid down to the floor with her, grasping her waist with one hand and cupping her cheek with the other. “I’m not anythin’ special,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “How could you think that your love isn’t worth as much as mine? What would _ever_ make you think that, Jemma?”

“You are special, Fitz. You’re so very special to me. There’s no one I care for more.” She was starting to feel weepy again but she tried to snuffle it back. “But…I’ve hurt you so much,” she said, her voice small and her eyes cast down in shame.

“Not intentionally,” he said, lifting her chin with one crooked finger. “You’d never do that.” He grinned. “Y’know, I’m sure you’ll be singin’ a different tune about what you deserve after you hear my snorin’. No one deserves _that_ horror.”

“Fitz,” she scoffed, “I _have_ heard your snoring and I chose to be your best friend anyway.”

His grin widened. “I’m sure there’s somethin’ new that will make you go off your trolley. The way I squeeze out the toothpaste?“

“Horrific.”

“How I leave up the toilet lid?“

“Ghastly.”

“It’s even worse now actually. How I—”

“Fitz, I’ve done your laundry. I tend to doubt there are any surprises left.”

He put a hand to his forehead, smiling sheepishly. “We really do know everything, includin’ all the worst, don’t we?”

“All but the last, eh— _thing_ ,” she agreed. She felt a slight tremble between her thighs, reminding her that they’d very definitely started down _that_ road and she desperately wanted to continue. In an attempt to get things off the serious subject they'd veered onto, she began to try to steer the conversation back. “Which is, of course, quite a few new things to learn about each other, really. What we do and don’t enjoy in that area. If there’s anything, eh, _special_ that we might prefer. Even, you know, how well-versed in—“

Fitz looked suddenly extremely nervous and Jemma decided that her topic was probably a bit—premature.

Oh, good lord, at least she hadn’t said that aloud!

“So, I was just getting to whether or not you’ve been—er, active since you left S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she reminded him. Trepidation filled his eyes. “I’m only asking to see if we actually need the condoms I brought. Otherwise, we’re fine with my IUD.” Since he already knew, she was glad she didn’t have to explain why all female field agent had to have them. That would be yet another awkward conversation she didn’t want to have.

“Oh,” he said, looking relieved. “No. Not since _well_ before my last physical.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she said quietly, running her fingers up the front of his button-down. He gazed back at her a bit forlornly. “I only mean, I wanted you to live your life and not wait for me to get better.”

“I don’t want anyone else, Jem,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes but she saw the teary glint in them nonetheless.

“Well, you’ve missed your chance,” she said teasingly. “You’re stuck with me until the bitter end now.”

“Thank god,” he said and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her to him for a kiss.

While they were still on their knees, she quickly had his top off, nimbly twisting open the buttons and shoving the cotton off his arms. Her fingers fanned out over his pectorals as she sucked a line of kisses across from shoulder to shoulder. Kissing his smooth, naked chest was definitely on her list of favorite things now. Pushing against him solidly until he met the edge of the bed, she began to wantonly rub her achingly hard nipples against his body through her clothes. Groaning, he slid his hands down over her bum again, his fingers gripping into her flesh as he pulled her against him.

With the tip of her tongue tracing the tendons of his neck, she made him shiver and his skin prickle beneath her lips. Feeling his rapid pulse, the blood coursing just under the surface as she moved her mouth against his jugular, she was pleased that she was able to do this to him. His heart beat for her and now she could make it race. She nipped at the skin below his ear and drew her nails lightly down his chest, just hard enough to leave the barest traces of a stripe on his skin.

His head lolled back, seemingly enjoying her attention, he suddenly said, “I–I never imagined this. Not in all those years.”

“What?” she questioned. She pulled his earlobe between her lips and just barely gave it a nibble while her fingertips brushed down the line of his neck on the opposite side.

“That you’d…” he sighed, “like it this much.”

She let his ear go and chuckled spontaneously. “What? You mean sex?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Me.”

“Fitz, you know I like you. You’ve known that I love you for years. I mean, not—like _this_ , but—wait, what do you mean?”

“We never touched— _much_ ,” he said with a sigh. “I thought it was because you didn’t want to.”

“But I thought _you_ didn’t like physical contact,” she said immediately, slightly taken aback at his assumption.

“Well, at the Academy, I didn’t want to seem like I, you know, _wanted_ to or anythin'. I didn’t want to give the impression I was only interested in you for your…ehm, _attributes_ , after all.”

“We’re really going to need to work on our communication,” she said firmly.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Smiling impishly, he added, “Can you do that thing with your nails again?”

She grinned happily. “Alright, that is a start.”

Dragging her nails lightly against his torso, she decreased the pressure as she moved lower where he seemed to be more sensitive. Reaching his open fly, she let her hand slide down inside between his trousers and pants. As she explored the outline of his cock through the cotton, his eyes slipped shut and he let out a little involuntary noise. It was more than a sigh but less than a whimper and seemed to fly from his throat against his will. His arm came around her back but it seemed less like he was attempting to caress her and more like he needed something to hang onto.

“Stand up,” she whispered in his ear.

His eyes opened abruptly. “Huh?”

“I want to help you get these off,” she said, tugging at the corner of his open fly.

“But you’re…” he moved his hands up and down before her (very near her breasts) to indicate her current state of being fully attired.

“A trade then?” she suggested, her lips quirking up at the corners.

He raised his brows questioningly.

“First these,” she said, tugging his trousers again.

He got up from his knees and toed off his shoes before pushing down the navy trousers. It would be a shame to ruin them, Jemma decided. They did make his bum look awfully nice. She took them from him and tossed them aside. Without ceremony, she pulled her dress over her head, sending it flying in the direction of the trousers.

She nodded toward his pants. He was clearly embarrassed but it was nearly overshadowed by the lust he was rather blatantly displaying as his eyes roved over her lacy bra and knickers. On a hopeful whim, she’d changed into them along with the dress.

“Make you a deal,” she said, knowing it was really no deal at all. “I’ll let you choose.” She indicated her last two items of clothing. "You first."

As he nervously fingered the elastic waistband of his pants, Jemma felt heat flooding into her lower belly again. She’d never had to do this much coaxing before but she found it strangely exciting.

She watched him drag down his pants and the sight of his cock springing free made her squeeze her thighs together as her inner walls seemed to thrum in anticipation. The hollow ache had returned and she longed to have it filled.

His ears went bright pink as she took in his naked form. He was so thin, she could see the lean outline of muscle in his shoulders and arms. Despite the fact that he seemed to be insecurely sucking in his belly to the point of concavity, he had a pleasant suppleness in his torso that she already knew felt wonderful under her hands. His body was nearly smooth but for his legs with a light covering of downy hair. Then there was the sparse line that drew her eyes down to his thatch and swaying cock. She bit her lip, pleased, and quite eager to continue.

Wasting no time, his face flushed, Fitz ran a finger under the strap of her bra. “This,” he said, his voice low and intimate. Jemma had planned to tease him (if only a bit) but his seductive tone and darkly alluring gaze caught her off guard and made the ache in her grow.

Gazing directly into his eyes, licking some moisture back to her lips, she reached back and undid the hooks—then held out her arms to him. The way he looked back at her was reverent but so very hungry. He seemed enthralled as he dragged the straps down her arms, slowly exposing her breasts.

He dropped the garment carelessly to the side, never taking his eyes from the objects of his desire.

“God, you’re so bloody gorgeous,” he murmured, his face tense with some emotion she wasn’t quite certain of. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers then twining them together with hers. His brows drew upward, creasing his forehead, and he sighed in some sort of release of tension.

With the pad of his thumb, he slowly reached out to lightly stroke along the rounded edge of her breast just below her nipple. It was so loving and delicate, she found herself moved. But she didn’t want him to be afraid of showing passion.

She stepped in, reaching down to trap his erection between their bodies and, laying her hand over the back of his, brought it up to close over her breast. He shuddered out a nervous breath. With her fingers over his, she manipulated his hold, squeezing and massaging herself with his hand. Her mouth fell open as burning sparks of pleasure dropped straight down, igniting the fire in her belly.  

She let her hand fall away, allowing him free reign as he—now far more uninhibitedly—cupped, stroked, pinched and rolled her flesh with his hands, as intent on her reactions as she’d ever seen him on anything. Puckered and tense, her nipples were burning points of inflamed pleasure. She groaned at the sensations his clever fingers elicited and it only seemed to increase his fervor. He leaned down to lap around her areola and with each flick of his tongue against her nipple, she felt a slight contraction deep in her pelvis—a suggestion of what was to be. He pulled her aching peak into his feverish mouth, tugging and stretching out her sensitive flesh, and she let loose a loud, unbridled moan.

“Jemma, Christ,” Fitz gasped, coming up to kiss her throat and pulling her hips hard against him as he thrust sharply up between their bodies. It left a cool, wet trail along her stomach. At this rate, she wondered if things weren’t about to get a bit messy.

“Sit down,” she said heatedly.

Jemma was incredibly stimulated but their efforts so far felt slightly unbalanced. He'd already given her two orgasms that day and she wanted Fitz to have his fair share of pleasure.

“What?” Fitz sounded startled, as if he’d been in a dream and she’d just woken him.

Smirking to herself, and wondering at his response to her going a bit blue, she tried to sound rather sexy as she said, “I want you in my mouth.”

“ _Fuck_ , Jemma,” he blurted, eyes widening.

“Precisely,” she agreed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh at his response.

He just stared at her for a beat, then said, “But, ehm, what about—“

“Later,” she said, to whatever he’d planned to say. She was intent and she’d found her voice evidently. Giving him a slight, encouraging prod, she reiterated, “Sit now.”

He sat down immediately, with no further preamble.

She felt oddly like she had something to prove after his earlier comment that he hadn’t thought she’d enjoy touching him. She’d always enjoyed that aspect of sex and, though it had been some time, she also thought she was quite good at sucking a man off. It wasn’t as if you forgot after all—or so she hoped.

She got down on her knees, noting his wide-eyed, astonished expression. She wondered if he’d imagined this scenario—it seemed a given, really—she decided she quite wanted to surpass his expectations.

She sent out a breath of air, watching it stir the little hairs on his thighs and testicles. His length twitched at the sensation where it stood, rigidly upright, awaiting her attentions. She pushed his legs wider, sliding her hands up the insides of his thighs and running her thumbs up against his scrotum at the crease of his thighs. Moving her lips around the silky head of his cock, she licked the briny, musky liquid from his tip. He gasped and she felt him pulse under her tongue, already close. She released him and lapped wetly from bottom to top, feeling his foreskin stretch beneath her tongue and sensing the hot throb of blood through his veins as he made some slight whimper.

He choked on a moan as she wrapped her fingers around his solid base and took him into her mouth completely. His fingers found their way into her hair but he was gentle enough, stroking lazily, and she made no effort to check him. When he just hit the back of her throat, she reversed, applying suction and swirling her tongue back along the underside until she felt the little ridge of his frenulum. As she started to speed up, she cupped his testes in a hand, toying with the loose skin, but hesitant to do more than that without a conversation first. He began to make a little growling hiss each time she withdrew. Her saturated knickers clung unpleasantly to her sex as she pumped even faster. Her tongue lost its rhythm in favor of increased suction. His breath rasped in his throat as she began to squeeze rhythmically with her fingers around his cock until he was gasping for air through his clenched teeth.

Then, she heard him breathe out, “I’m almost—oh. I’m—oh god…”

She sucked harder, taking him in as deeply as she could. As he stifled a moan behind his lips—involuntarily tensing his fingers in her hair until her scalp sang—she tasted him at the back of her mouth. He came in warm, salty gushes over her tongue as he pulsed with pleasure.

She reached up to relax his fingers in her hair as she stroked gently along his shaft until he began to soften slightly. Withdrawing one last time, tickling his slit with the tip of her tongue, she let him slide from her lips with a final noisy little suck. She slid her hands over his thighs—skimming through his smattering of pale, finespun hair as she felt his muscles still quivering beneath her fingers.

“I just need a, ehm, a moment. Bloody hell,” he said sluggishly, still trying to calm his breathing as he fell back onto the bed.

Jemma climbed onto the bed and curled up along side him, kissing his shoulder, then nuzzling his neck.

“You can have all the moments you need, as long as I can do as I like in the meantime,” she teased, licking a glistening trail along his collarbone.

He opened one eye and said, “I can see already you’re goin’ to be the death of me.”

She smiled sweetly. “Good way to go?”

“God, yes,” he muttered, pulling her closer and letting his eye slip closed again. She let her head come to rest against his chest and she lazily circled his nipple with a fingertip.

“So, that was a bit more than taking off my kit, wasn’t it?”

“I’m never goin’ to live that down, am I? I’m such a git,” he said, smiling and shaking his head but not bothering to open his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll pay for it in subtle ways for many years to come,” she agreed with a smirk.

“Tha’s my girl,” he said, eyes still closed, lips twitching into a grin.

She slipped off her uncomfortably wet knickers and tossed them vaguely in the direction their other things had gone. When she looked back, he was already watching her raptly, taking in all the things he’d touched but hadn’t yet seen.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more so than I could’ve dreamed,” he said, a small bittersweet smile on his lips. She felt like she could see the way he cherished every part of her in his eyes. It filled her with warm feelings of love and only a hint of her fear that somehow she would still manage to muck this up.

She brought her leg over his thighs and began to kiss his neck while he hummed in appreciation. She nuzzled his cheek, pointing out a few small freckles that he had and kissing them. Fitz turned into her, catching the back of her head and bringing her close so their lips met once again. As the kiss grew more tender, she shifted over to straddle him while pressing their bare chests together. She took his hands and brought them back to cup her bum. He made a low sound of lustful satisfaction and eagerly caressed her. He quickly began to reinvigorate the warmth at her core as his wandering fingers massaged her sensitive flesh.

Moaning softly, kissing his lips delicately, she applied just the barest flutter to his before pressing their lips fully together. Savoring it before she drew back, she brought her hands up along the sides of his familiar, handsome face. She stroked his cheek with a thumb, watching his eyes following hers, as she traced up his sideburns and then teased her fingertips into the short hair over his ears. Quickly, she placed a series of solid kisses to his mouth—again and again—landing them at different points along his lips. It wasn’t terribly sensual but, for some reason, it felt necessary. Finally, she raised up so she could meet his eyes again.

“I love you,” she said, feeling a lump of worry at the back of her throat dissolving with the escaping words.

His eyes shot upward, suddenly unable to meet her gaze, and she thought she’d done something terribly wrong for an instant. But, then, he was back—his eyes slightly glassy as he brought his hands up to cover hers alongside his cheeks.

He swallowed tearfully. “I wasn’t expectin’ that,” he said simply.

She brought her lips to his again, pressing too firmly, but somehow it felt good. It felt as if she could brand the knowledge on him in some way—imprint the idea that she loved him directly onto his skin. She moved down and mouthed the spot over his heart, pressing repeated, adamant kisses with a wish to impart any small bit of how she felt into his very being, his very soul.

She grazed a path of small feathery kisses back along his neck and up to his lips, where she traced his tender pink flesh with the tip of her tongue. Eyes dark, he raised up and caught her lips, cupping the back of her head to control the angle and depth that his mouth joined with hers. Tongue working hotly, he quickly had her whimpering against his mouth as he rekindled her body to full blazing need.

She pressed her slick lips to the rapidly regrowing length of his cock. His hardness nudged her open as her wetness quickly spread along the length of him. It was leaking out of her, almost embarrassingly, and saturating the delicate skin between them. She could even smell her own musky-sweet scent in the air. He hummed with approval as she angled her hips, fitting him within her cleft and dragging her clit along his shaft. Her hips jerking along, she rubbed herself to frustration against him. They were both panting again by the time she decided she needed more of him. Finally, they would consummate the long-admitted but only now realized bond of love between them. She reached down, taking hold of him, angling him up toward her opening.

She met his eyes and he looked uneasy again but there was no mistaking the desirous, needful look that existed right alongside.

“This is it,” she said, her attempt at humor thwarted by her own too-serious tone. “No cold feet, right?”

“No,” he agreed, eyes both darkly passionate and timidly wide. He shook his head. “None of that.”

She positioned his tip against her entrance and then let gravity impale her gradually. Her leg muscles quivered while she tried to slow her descent as he stretched her open with a delicious pleasure that was sharpened by the barest knife-edge of pain. He groaned behind his teeth as his cock grazed slowly along her inner walls, her long-unused muscles brought back to receptivity inch by glorious inch. Once she could lower herself no further, she sighed in satisfaction at the exquisitely full feeling and an erotic sense of completeness overcame her. Moving slowly at first, her body soon adjusted, allowing her to really begin moving with abandon. Rocking her hips, bracing against his chest, she slid up and down along him, angling her pelvis so her clit rasped perfectly over his length.

“Sweet Jesus,” he said fervently, taking hold of her hips and pulling her back down hard.

“Not so quickly,” she said, rolling her hips instead of dropping down this time.

She undulated her pelvis several more times, bumping her clit against him but keeping the friction less intense.

He growled slightly in frustration, grimacing. “Bloody hell, that’s pure torture."

“Maybe you need a distraction,” she suggested, quirking her lips. “Sit up.”

His lower legs were still off the edge of the bed and with her help he was able to raise up fairly easily. He splayed his hands across her back as she angled his head up so she could kiss him deeply. Then she began to roll her hips shallowly, perfectly putting pressure on her clit each time she moved.

“Better?” she asked, pulling his top lip between her own and sucking it lightly before letting go so he could answer.

“As distractions go, hmm, it’s not bad,” he said, his tone rather flirtatious. “But you’ve got better.” He tilted his head down to catch her nipple between his lips. She certainly had no objection as fire shot through her directly to her clit. He dragged his whiskered cheek across her chest as he changed to the other breast, pricking up gooseflesh and bringing tingles to her skin.

He kissed into the valley between her breasts, nuzzling between them tenderly with his nose and lips and roughened cheeks. He drew his tongue along her chest, touching the tip of his nose to the little bird pendant still on her neck. Then, lips at her throat, he said, “I’m makin’ it my new goal in life to kiss every last one of your freckles.”

“People get new ones as they get older, you know?” she teased.

“I guess, I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he said, dipping into the hollow of her throat with his tongue. “Good thing we’ve got the rest of our lives?” He sounded slightly insecure as he said it and Jemma’s heart clenched in shame that he was still so afraid it would all fall apart.

“Mm, it could take ages,” she agreed, not wanting to put a damper on their lovemaking but trying to reassure him nonetheless. She kissed his temple, swirling a hand through his mussed curls.

“Lean back a bit,” he said. She looked over her shoulder at the drop to the floor behind her and he laughed. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Before she could meet his request, she had to free her legs where they were pinned beneath her thighs to slide her feet back around his bum. Somehow, she managed it without separating them. Using her arms around his neck for leverage, she bucked her hips against him again, still trying to keep up something of a rhythm with her hips. Gradually, she let herself lean away from him, feeling his arms securely around her back. His mouth now had free reign over her entire chest. He kissed freckle after freckle before returning to her breasts again—licking, sucking, nipping and scraping greedily. He inflamed her to the point of torment until she finally groaned in frustration at how little she could move her hips now. She could only barely contract her legs to bring their bodies together and now the angle was off.

“I can’t do much more than this,” she told him. She was perspiring even with her minute efforts now and a trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts. Ever observant, he licked it away as if he’d been waiting for it. “I’ve got no leverage now,” she told him, weakly bucking her hips.

He pulled her back to him, bringing her head down closer with his hand at the back of her neck. He kissed her tenderly and then gripped her by the hips again. He began to manipulate her pelvis, pushing her away and pulling her back. It felt strange because she was on top where she would normally be in control but she had none. She found it oddly thrilling.

She sighed as he licked the damp skin of her neck, but seeming to realize it wasn’t working for her, he asked, “No?”

She shook her head. “It’s still the angle off.”

“Lean back again,” he requested. She did as he asked, but when she was angled back as far as she had been before, he said, “Keep goin’. I promise, I won’t let you fall.”

A tiny bit nervous, she kept going until her back touched his thighs, only a bit of her upper back and, of course, her head and neck had nothing to support them but she thought she could maintain it for a bit before she got a headache. One hand gripping her waist securely, he reached out, running his hand over one breast and then the other, pinching each of her taut nipples in turn and making her inner walls clench on the full length of him within her. Gripping her hips in both hands, he pushed away and then pulled her back toward him, solidly onto his cock. She gasped, the angle did surprisingly get many more of the sensitive places she needed—but she could already tell it wouldn’t be enough.

She let him go on a few more times but he seemed to realize on his own that it still wasn’t working for her.

“Damn,” he muttered. “You look incredibly hot this way.”

“Maybe there’s a better way that might combine your visual perspective with a more stimulating angle of entry. Table, maybe?” she suggested. They did have all night for this after all.

“I’ve a better idea,” he said. He pulled her back up and, startling her completely, he stood up, supporting her with his hands under her bum.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said, frowning worriedly.

“Jem _ma_ ,” he grumped with a sigh. “I’m tryin’ to be, you know, sexy or whatever. You’re ruinin’ it a bit.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry,” she managed.

He turned and set her down on the bed a touch roughly but safely. She couldn’t help the small noise of disappointment she made when he slipped from within her. He got onto the bed on his knees.

Taking a deep breath to stave off any lingering giggles, she added, “You’re very sexy, Fitz. It wasn’t ruined in the least.”

He sighed again and she surmised he was feeling patronized.

“Really,” she said, taking his hand. “I’ve never been so turned on.”

He smiled a bit hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss but it didn’t last long since Fitz evidently had plans.

He pulled back again. “Budge up,” he said waving her toward the head of the bed. She scooted backwards as he crawled toward her, his cock glistening wetly as it hung, still stiff, beneath him. She opened her legs, ready for him to resume but he kissed her knee and said, “Okay, I’m gonna," his face flushed slightly, "you know, ehm, use my mouth.”

She felt her vulva throb at just the words (as hesitant as they were) and she felt wetness leaking from her, making her want to close her legs in embarrassment. Then, Fitz nuzzled her inner thigh just a few inches up from her knee.

He squeezed his brows together in concern and, with a slight tone of almost-disappointment, said, “Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I’ve, ehm, well, I've never done this before. So if I’m rubbish, you’ll just have to tell me what to do. Okay?”

Jemma couldn’t really quite explain the odd, light sensation she was experiencing but it came with waves of love for the man she knew—had always known—she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She smiled at him warmly. “Alright.”

He smiled a bit shyly and then began to kiss his way up her thigh using tongue and lips and teeth. He sucked at the sensitive skin, occasionally grazing with the flat undersides of his teeth and even lapped at the tacky wetness that’d escaped down her thighs.

When he finally reached the delta of dark hair covering her sex, he touched her there lovingly, combing his fingers through before parting her lips with his fingers. Possibly in insecurity, he lead with his fingers, finding her clit first and then following after with his mouth. She was so inflamed, throbbing with heat, that his mouth felt cool on her sex.

She relaxed her legs on his shoulders and he slid one hand up to fondle her breast, the other stroked up and down the back of her thigh sensuously. He teasingly caressed the crease of her thigh with a thumb then slipped lower to squeeze her bum. She reached down to put a reassuring hand on his where he held her breast as he first traced her inner lips with the point of his tongue. Then, he rather unceremoniously sucked her swollen clit between his lips. She cried out, flinching sharply as tears sprang to her eyes at the force of sensation. The feeling that raced through her was too wonderful to be pain but almost too intense to be called pleasure.

He stopped, looking up at her worriedly. “Too much?”

“No,” she gasped urgently. “Don’t stop!”

“Oh,” was all he said, looking a bit anxious as he went back to his task.

To her relief, he enthusiastically (and a bit noisily) continued to lick around her clit. Unfortunately, he was quite cautious after that. Evidently, uncertain now, he only occasionally gave the throbbing bundle a few gentle, exploratory laps. She was squirming, her hips wanting to move to find his tongue so she could get the pressure where she needed it. She really had sort of wanted to let him figure it out on his own but she couldn’t help the fact that the situation was beginning to grow rather desperate. The spring of need in her couldn’t reasonably be coiled any tighter than it already was.

“Can you please…" she felt suddenly rather shy in asking for what she really wanted and spewed out the rest in a staccato so rapid she wasn’t even certain he could understand her, "do that thing you did that now you seem afraid to do?”

He didn’t answer but he did take her clit, still quite gently, between his lips and begin to suck. Then her hips were writhing again, the hollow ache returning to her pelvis and longing to be filled once again.

“You can use your fingers as well,” she ground out, grimacing slightly. “Inside,” she clarified timidly. She had no idea if he found her directions helpful or irritating but he did slip a finger into her heat.

“Could you do another?” she asked, gritting her teeth, her breath already coming much faster. “And run them upward a bit more?”

He took both suggestions and put them into practice without a word. She would’ve been concerned at his silence but, too soon, she was vibrating with bliss. Her thighs quivering, her nerves like a live wire—they were charged and ready—needing just the smallest nudge for them to spark fire.

He pumped his fingers into her and, intently circling her clit, he finally took the tense point between his lips again, flicking over it with his tongue as he sucked.

The moment before she came, the skin all over her body tightened and prickled as flickers of blue and yellow flame blazed behind her eyelids. Then she arced off the bed heavenward, the angle of her spine so extreme she heard her vertebra crackle in protest. She could even feel her breasts bouncing against her ribcage as she convulsed with wave upon wave of pleasure but then her every thought was annihilated as white-hot ecstasy lanced through her, leaving her alive with nothing but sensation.

Her lungs felt deprived of oxygen as she came back to herself, her belly buzzing with aftershocks.

Her best friend-cum-lover’s eyes peeked up from between her legs, stroking one last lazy lick over her clit and making her shiver.

“That was an experience,” he said, his brows drawn high. “Is that…usual?”

While she pondered how to even answer that question, he came up to lay beside her and she saw that he was still very much happy to see her.

“Perhaps that could be a conversation for another time and you could shag me just now instead?” she said in her most cheerful tone of voice.

“So absolutely not a problem,” he agreed instantly, turning so he could shift himself over her.

Still quivering from her orgasm, she dragged her shaky knees up to either side of his hips. Reaching down, she took him in hand and stroked him several times to bring him back to sufficient hardness before she guided him to her entrance. This time, he slicked inside so easily, it almost felt shameful. She gasped at the feeling of being filled again. She couldn't ever recall it feeling quite so physically satisfying before. However, there was also a completeness and a rightness to it that she was certain she'd never felt.

“This is my favorite bit… Bein’ inside you,” he said, kissing her neck a bit desperately as he grasped her hips and began to move within her.

Overwhelmed with emotion, as much as she could under current circumstances, she hugged him. “It’s mine too,” she agreed, her fingers unconsciously digging into his skin as if she could somehow make them into one person. “I love you.”

“I love you, Jemma, so much.”

She tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her slowly and deeply. His tongue pressed in hotly to mirror the vigorous movements his cock was making down below. He made some scant space between their mouths, their breath trading places as he brushed his nose against her cheek. He pressed random light kisses to her lips and cheeks and she felt air tickling against her skin, then she realized he was whispering I-love-you's between kisses.

Jemma watched him as he made love to her, and everything that he did was indexed and filed away in her mind: the responsive tensing of a muscle, the slackening of his jaw, the moment when a touch or a movement of her hips made him forget himself and moan out.

His sounds were all so quiet. Moans were repressed to muted hums, gasps restrained. Even his expressions he appeared to try to control, attempting to remain in some way neutral. She couldn’t help but worry that somehow it was her fault. That she’d made him feel that she found him unacceptable in some way and he thought it safer to keep more withheld. She wanted him to let go, throw off his restraint, and let himself feel something—no, everything.  

She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath as he rocked into her. She rolled her hips up to meet his movements, clashing together in sweet remembrances of the climax she’d just experienced. At the moment, his strokes were long and unhurried but firm, filling her deeply before repeating his movements flawlessly. It all felt rather startlingly perfect and she already felt the rising promise of imminent rapture.

He raised up on his arms, gazing down at her lovingly, and she mischievously slid her hands down to squeeze his arse. He jerked his hips forward a bit in surprise and she grinned, enjoying the feeling of his cheeks hollowing out beneath her palms as he continued to thrust.

“You really do have a nice bum,” she said, caressing the pleasant roundness rather shamelessly.

His ears were pink again and she was incredibly pleased that he was still so bashful even in their current  _position_.

“Are you tryin’ to get me started on how nice all your bits are?” he asked teasingly. "I'd be happy to if all my attention weren't a bit, ahem, diverted."

“Mmm, that doesn’t sound terrible, however, I think later would be fine,” she said, squeezing his arse again to spur him on. “I’d rather you focused on the task at hand.”

“Good point,” he said, smirking and reaching to cup her breast in one hand. He quickly teased her nipple to hardness with his thumb but, then, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from them any longer, he dove down to mouth her breasts quite enthusiastically.

She wove her fingers into his curls, encouraging him, when she felt his teeth. Their sharp edges rasped over her areola and then he bit down on her nipple. The response was immediate—she arched against him involuntarily, her walls fluttered around his cock and she knew another orgasm was hurrying close. She felt him smile against her breast. She forgot that while she was cataloging his responses, he’d been cataloging hers. Her lovely Fitz.

He scratched along the underside of her breast with his teeth, making her gasp and buck her hips to meet his next drive. Then he switched to the other side but, when he pulled her nipple between his teeth this time, he found her clit with his fingers and she was lost.

The pleasure was ruthless this time, wracking her body again and again with surges of heady bliss. All she could do was cling to his shoulders as it overwhelmed her and, her senses blurry, she cried out until her throat felt dry. As she came down from her heights this time, she felt the slight flicker of an ache deep inside and she recognized that she’d likely given her poor cervix too much of a workout after so long unused. However, it did nothing to diminish the satisfaction of being sated while still having him inside.

His breath was hot against her neck, puffing out doggedly, as he continued his exertions. The entire bed was shaking as he drove into her relentlessly, his frantic movements drawing gasps from her as the pleasure of her orgasm echoed through her. He was obviously now close to his own climax and she wanted him to have as much pleasure as she could give him. She clenched her muscles over the length of him, the ache within intensifying briefly and then diminishing. He was suppressing a moan against the skin of her throat but she wanted him to let go and feel it all completely.

She nuzzled his ear to get his attention, and said, “I want to hear you this time. Just—don’t hold back.”

He made no acknowledgement but his hips went faster for a moment and then he froze. Head going back and mouth dropping open, his lips seemed to move up and down in indecision and then he cried out in a harsh, sharp yelp.

Well—it was a start.

She felt him pulsing within her, his hips juddering with the force of his spasms. He collapsed against her while she petted his damp neck and shoulder as he caught his breath.

When he finally turned his head to look up at her, he appeared rather gobsmacked.

“Are you alright?” she asked, touching her fingers to his sweaty brow.

He blinked rapidly and said, “ _That_ was bloody fantastic.”

She grinned. “I completely agree.”

He smiled dreamily and then rolled off onto his back, seemingly unable to move further. She folded the duvet over them and curled into his side as he laid a slack hand against her back.

“It was actually even better than I’d hoped,” she said, pressing a kiss to his salty, slightly moist chest.

“Are you sayin’ I exceeded _The_ Jemma Simmons’ expectations?” he asked in wonder.

“Well, we both did, I think…” she teased, stroking along his ribs.

“Alright, full disclosure in favor of improving communication,” he said and let out a lengthy sigh, “I might’ve affected the results of that experiment with variable you're unaware of." She only looked back at him, waiting for an explanation. He pursed his lips and continued, "Well, I might've had a bit of a, ehm," he bit his lip nervously, "a wank—or even, oh, I don't know," he grimaced, "maybe two? You know, after earlier in the supply closet?”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh as much at his embarrassment as his need to lower her expectations for the future. “That _does_ explain a bit actually.” He'd seemed rather indefatigable in his efforts.

“Well, I was in a state—” he started to explain. Then he seemed to register what Jemma had said. He raised his head up to look at her. “Hey, is that you insultin’ my, ehm, my _prowess_?” he questioned incredulously.

“Certainly not,” she backpedaled, frowning at stirring up his insecurity. “I’m sure that had no effect whatsoever.” Well, that might've been a bit of a stretch.

He sighed again, then seemed to think of something that made him grin. “Well, if that _were_ the case, you know, on the off chance it _did_ have an effect, then we could duplicate the experience quite easily.” He waggled his eyebrows rather adorably.

“True,” she agreed, unable to pass up the opportunity to tease him and suppressing a laugh. “I’m not sure most men with partners tend to need a wank quite that often but if you’d prefer to continue—” She shrugged.

“You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?” he asked, the slightest bit of his gruffness peeking though.

“A bit,” she agreed with a grin, running her fingers lightly up his chest.

“You really are though,” he said, smiling happily, and then kissed the top of her head.

She sighed contentedly. “You know, I think I’d go have a wash if I weren’t so exhausted,” she said. “I feel a bit of a mess.”

“Wore you out, did I?” he asked playfully, some of the heat coming back to his eyes already.

“Well, that—and it’s been something of an emotional couple of days,” she admitted.

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” she disagreed, shaking her head. “It’s not all you. I mean, there was Daisy getting hurt and I had my birthday. I suppose it made me a bit sad without you there. But also just feeling useless when I couldn’t figure out the solution. Just—too many things.”

“You know that we always work better together,” he said, smiling so sweetly that she had to lean up and kiss him. "We always keep each other in balance," he said, between kisses.

Drawing back, looking into his eyes, she said, “In the interest of improving our communication, I thought I should tell you—I fancied you from the start as well.”

He chuckled lightly.

“What?”  

“S’just—well, I sort of figured that out. I mean, there were a few clues,” he said, smiling a tad ruefully.

“There were?” she asked, stunned he'd already known.

He shrugged. “I certainly didn’t get it then but, over the years, in hindsight. Yeah. And there were your messages—from the planet.”

Jemma gasped, her fingers coming up to curl over her mouth in shock.

Many months after her rescue, Jemma had finally asked Fitz to see if he could retrieve the data from her damaged mobile. Before they’d spoken about it again, she’d begun getting the flashbacks, the nightmares and anxiety attacks. She’d hoped when she gave it to him that he would listen to her messages she’d recorded for him and understand how she felt for him. But then her true memories had returned along with so much confusion and pain. It’d thrown her into an emotional turmoil and she hadn’t been sure whether the injuries her psyche had sustained would allow what she had once hoped for so desperately.

“You never mentioned it,” she said. “Why did you never mention it? I thought you hadn’t listened to them.”

He tucked a piece of hair over her ear. “It wasn’t the right time, Jemma. I knew it wasn’t. And I could wait. I would’ve waited forever. This is worth every second I've waited.”

“You knew?” she said, devastated and perplexed as to why he wouldn’t tell her.

“I won't lie, it was a bit confusin’ to hear you say that you never wanted to be without me and then so soon after you wanted me to go. I thought that maybe you’d finally changed your mind for good,” he said sadly.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes again and the last thing she saw before her eyes blurred over was Fitz’s distraught expression. Then, he was wrapping her up in his arms.

“Don’t cry, Jem. Shhh. It’s okay. I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“You knew,” she said again as her tears rolled down his chest.

“Shh,” he said, once more, kissing her tears away. “You’ll never be without me, if you don’t want.”

When she’d finally run dry again, he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you. Somethin’ that might make you feel a bit better.”

Then he was getting her up and urging her into the loo despite her protestations of being a bit upset still and very tired. He came with her into the shower but he was quite serious about having a wash. He went so far as tutting her when she tried to apply soap where he might find it quite pleasant. Afterward, he even laid out clothes from her suitcase on the bed, grinning wickedly as he handed her a pair of the more risqué knickers she’d brought. He disappeared into his ominously large closet while she put on the rest and, once dressed, she sat on the bed waiting until he emerged, dressed and with a small duffel on his shoulder.

He held out his hand to her, “C’mon. It’s not that much of a trip.”

Fitz refused to say where they were going as he brought her and their luggage out to his plane. He told her to send word back to S.H.I.E.L.D. that they would return in three days. Since Jemma hadn’t taken anything that could even vaguely be called leave since she’d been on another planet for six months, Coulson had no objection (not that Daisy and Bobbi would’ve allowed him to make one anyway). She was also informed that Agent Calvin had taken over the refinements to the device Fitz had created and it appeared to function perfectly.

Fitz stowed their bags and showed her to the cockpit. Jemma recognized that the plane was one of his own designs.

“You can really fly now?” she questioned. At his irritated look, she added, “Two years isn’t that long, you know...”

“Trust me,” he assured, flipping switches overhead as he took the pilot seat. “I had a really great teacher.”

“Bobbi?” she guessed, trying to imagine Fitz and Bobbi making clandestine meetings so she could teach him how to fly.

He shook his head, smiling tightly as she sat down beside him and strapped in securely.

She tried to think who Fitz might’ve gotten flying lessons from when an unlikely thought occurred to her. Her eyes got wide and Fitz began to smirk.

“No!” she gasped.

He nodded, grinning a bit smugly.

“Really?

“Really, Jemma,” he said, his brows bunching at her incredulity.

“Bloody hell,” she said almost contemplatively. “How did you—”

“I just asked.” He flicked a few more switches. "Coulson might've had a bit of a hand in it as well."

“I think it’s amazing. You, learning to fly. It’s quite sexy,” she said, trying not to smile too big and risk him questioning her sincerity.

“You do?” he asked hopefully, a slight blush tinging his ears. “I mean, I only—well, it was because of my schedule really.”

The plane began to rise from the tarmac of the landing area Fitz had on his intimidatingly massive property. Jemma watched his precise movements as he flew the plane, looking quite practiced as he set them off for who-knew-where.

She nodded solemnly. “Fitz, you design the planes and then you fly them. It doesn’t get any hotter.”

“I could jump out of them as well?” he suggested jokingly.

“Good point,” she agreed. “But you’re already part of a very exclusive club there. After all, how many aeronautical engineers fly their creations much less also jump from them? I should think you’d find many more pilots who jump from planes than you would engineers who did either of the other things. And, of course, becoming an engineer is far more difficult than the rest. I think you’ll find very few who would achieve such a triumvirate.”

The smile on his face was worth all the mental effort it had taken her to run up that bit of chatter in her tired mind.

“Would it be terrible if I had a bit of a sleep?” she asked, feeling rotten for leaving him on his own to fly the plane with no one to talk to.

“No,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “That seat reclines actually. Go ahead an' sleep. We’ll be there soon.”

She woke to Fitz shaking her shoulder. “Jem? We’re there.”

“Where?” she asked automatically, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

Feeling a bit sleep-muddled, she stood and took his hand.

As they stood together at the small exit door of the plane, Fitz hesitated with his hand over the release, then he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I–I've had a sort of picture in my head. Just—can you—well..." he groaned a bit frustratedly. "I mean, could you, ehm—would you close your eyes?” he asked hesitantly, his expression very earnest. “Just for a minute. I won’t let you fall over, I promise.”

She let out a little huff of air, rolled onto her toes and kissed him. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” she said, closing her eyes and holding out her free hand for balance.

The door latch was disengaged by the sound and then he was leading her down the three steps and out onto what felt like grass under her feet.

He lead her for perhaps fifty paces. Then, he said, “Okay, open them.”

She opened her eyes to the sight of a lovely stone cottage. It was covered in rose vines and ivy with a beautiful garden surrounding it. Beyond that, were large fields of green grass that went as far as she could see before a wood took over the view.

Jemma was so overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to say.

“I know it’s not the one you saw,” Fitz started immediately. “I had no way of knowin’ that, unfortunately. If you want to find it though, we can. I’ll offer them however much they like for it. But this—it's kept me goin’ the last couple of years. It kept my hope alive that someday…” He gave her that sweet, reverent look that she was starting to be less frightened of and more captivated by.

She turned to face him fully and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s perfect,” she murmured in his ear. “It’s better.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding a bit misty himself. She nodded and drew back to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

She dropped back down to the flats of her feet and, running a finger below her eye trying to stave off more tears, said, “It’s better because it’ll be our home.” She ran a hand up his chest lovingly. “When we’re ready for it. But, here or back at S.H.I.E.L.D., it doesn’t matter, because we’ll never be without each other again.”

He nodded, his eyes glazing over. “Yeah. Never again.” He gazed at her a moment before he blinked his unshed tears away, and said, “You really like it? I don’t mind findin’ another if you don’t.”

“I love it, Fitz. I promise,” she answered, giving him a glowing smile.

“Wait’ll you see inside. Also, it’s got loads of room,” he said enthusiastically, sweeping his hand toward the open fields and nearby woods. He caught himself suddenly and said, “Y’know, in case we, ehm, needed that.”

“For all our animals and children?” she questioned wryly.

His eyes widened in surprise at her bluntness. “Or, ehm, _whatever_ we needed it for,” he tentatively agreed, carefully checking her reaction.

“Oh, Fitz. If this your way of asking me—well, you could just ask me. We _are_ supposed to be improving our communication after all.”

“Somehow we never really talked about it in all those years of friendship,” he said and chuckled. “How do you feel about children and animals?”

“When we decide we’re ready, I think one…possibly two…” she watched the raptly expectant look on Fitz’s face and tried not to laugh, “Dogs?” she finished.

“Oh,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. He nodded almost somberly.

“That’s, of course, because we’ll likely have one for each child. I prefer a nice housecat myself…”

The answering smile on Fitz’s face was beatific.

* * *

 

**Three days later**

All their friends were there to greet them as they exited Fitz’s private plane. Daisy and Bobbi took hold of Jemma soon after greetings had been exchanged, dragging her from Fitz with absolutely no remorse that she could detect.

She vaguely heard Coulson, Hunter and Mack congratulating Fitz on his return to S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Tell us!” Daisy burst out. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jemma asked, reaching up to finger the small bird pendant at her neck.

“Seriously?” Bobbi questioned incredulously. “I did bring you all the way there, you know? You’re actually not going to tell us what happened?”

“We figured things out,” Jemma said obscurely.

“But what does that even _mean_?” Daisy asked. “You’re friends again? You’re dating now? I mean, he’s back for good, right? So…dating, yes?”

Jemma picked up her pendant and toyed with it. “Not exactly,” she said dreamily, continuing the torment. Unable to maintain her façade, she couldn’t help but smirk.

“OH MY GOD!” Daisy screamed. “What the fuck?!” She covered her mouth with one hand and then grabbed Jemma’s wrist with the other.

“Wow,” Daisy said, drawing out the ‘O’. “I take anything mean I said about Fitz’s taste in jewelry back.”

“That’s quite the rock,” Bobbi agreed when Jemma held her hand out so she could examine the rather large diamond on her finger.

“Aren’t you guys moving kinda fast though?” Daisy asked, eyes still on the sparkly diamond.

Jemma and Bobbi both began to bray with laugher. Daisy looked up sharply but, realizing what she’d said and whom she’d said it to, she quickly joined in.

“What’s so funny?” Fitz asked, walking up and sliding his arm around Jemma’s shoulders.

Still stifling her laughter, Jemma bit out, “Daisy was just asking if we might be moving a bit too quickly with our engagement.”

All Fitz could manage at first was a bewildered look. “Tha’s a joke, right?”

The three women all cackled again.

Fitz glanced between the three of them for a moment as they giggled. His expression varied from a dubious smile to a sidelong look to a bemused and crooked grin, all while his brows rose and fell in puzzlement.

“Well, Coulson said he has somethin’ for us in the lab,” Fitz said, slightly louder than necessary to cut through the merriment.

“Congratulations, you two,” Bobbi said. To Fitz, she added, “It’s good to have you back. It wasn’t the same without you.”

“Thanks, Bobbi,” he said with a bright smile, waving as she headed back into the base.

Still chortling, Daisy slapped Fitz on the shoulder hard enough to make him flinch and rub the spot protectively, then said, “Yeah, Fitz! It’s great to have you back.” She looked at Jemma and, smiling delightedly, gave her a warm hug, whispering in her ear, “Congrats. I can’t believe it but I'm so happy for you.” Daisy released her and, turning to leave, called over her shoulder, “You and me, Jemma, later. I’ve gotta hear this entire story.”

“I’m not certain it’s the sort of story you’d want to hear,” Jemma said, glancing at Fitz out of the corner of her eye. “It would likely entail…comparing notes on a certain topic.”

Daisy looked confused for a moment, then she grimaced. “Oh! Ew! Please. No!” Then, she shot them a quick grin and hurried off, pretending a shudder for Jemma’s benefit.

Fitz was looking down at Jemma expectantly.

She shrugged innocently.

“Please don’t tell Daisy all the details of our sex life,” he said with a slight plea in his tone.

“She _is_ my best female friend,” she explained apologetically. “Not to mention, she rather cruelly went quid-pro-quo with her and Lincoln’s relationship when she knew I didn’t have anything to barter.” Jemma pressed her lips together and stopped speaking because it seemed more prudent.

He sighed heavily, bringing a hand to his forehead and rubbing roughly. “Jemma!” he groaned. “Everyone’s goin’ to know! ‘Off the record’ or ‘put it in the vault’ aren’t even part of Daisy’s vocabulary. She’s really not known for her incredible secret-keepin’ abilities which is an extremely wretched flaw for a spy, if you ask me. Not to mention, I really don’t want to feel compelled to think about what it means when she gives me an odd look and she _already_ gives me a fair few odd looks!”

Jemma wrapped her fingers around Fitz’s bicep and touched the tip of her nose to the edge of his jaw, pressing a quick kiss to his throat just beneath. “Even if her looks are only because she’s so stunned at your incredible— _prowess_?”

The expression he gave her was rather scandalized.

“Okay,” she conceded, “Perhaps we’ll keep it to generalities?”

He sighed, raising his eyes heavenward. He took a breath and looked her in the eyes. “Generalities about my prowess?”

“Naturally,” she agreed. “Although—now that you’ve become a bit more verbal in your responses, I question how effective any efforts to cover our, er,  _activities_ will be.”

“Okay, now that’s completely your doin’,” he complained. “A virtual lifetime of dormitory livin’ had me trained to be dead quiet durin’— _activities_! Now, three days in an’ you’ve got me howlin' like a bloody animal.”

“I’m quite gratified,” she said playfully, nipping at the skin of his throat. “I couldn’t be more pleased, really.”

“You’re bloody wicked. A shameless little minx,” he teased, drawing her closer for a more serious kiss.

Too soon, she was forced to push against his chest, breaking their lips apart. “Lab,” she reminded him.

He groaned in frustration and then sighed resignedly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, giving his bum a gentle squeeze that made him blush. “There’s always the medical supply closet if we get desperate.”

* * *

Fitz-Simmons Cottage

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/review and I will love you forever!


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